Bad Dreams
by T.L. Arens
Summary: G1.Based on Bidgit Stabler's Sentinel Arc This second part to Body and Soul finds the four Tentchi traveling back to Chenobis searching for answers to Kyle's dilemma. But they find more questions than answers.
1. Chapter 1

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Some disturbing imagery. **Bad Dreams** is part of Birgit 'Gryph' Stabler's **Sentinel Arc** All Interfaces: Tentchi-Dokiah belong to her. Other characters, Optimus Prime, Megatron, Rodimus Prime and First Aid belong to Hasbro/Takara. For my readers, I hope you enjoy reading this story even half as much as I enjoyed writing it. This one is for my good friend Bre Tyler for getting me into this and another 'mess' called **Testament** And Bre, Because of you, I'm going to write **Devil's Dance**

T.L. Arens

TRANSFORMERS:

Sentinel Arc: Bad Dreams

Part 1

"Doctor Scott, we're all painfully aware your publications regarding Interfacing and all the like. We are also aware, albeit painfully of your advocacy for the Transformers race. But now you come to the Intersystemary Medical Community with a claim that some ghost is hunting down individuals with psychic or potential psychic abilities, and that the Interfaces may be especially susceptible? You know, my mom made better mulligan stew than the stuff you're dishing out to us."

Doctor Bobrian Gregorian's comment was met with quiet laughter from a room full of professionals, students, wannabe's and reporters.

Kyle kept his poise, his gaze scanned the audience for one sympathetic individual. Three weeks had passed since the last attempt on his life. No signs of the strange watery dog-beasts were found anywhere. But Kyle knew from the stigma scarring his right hand, the monsters would return to kill him anytime.

"I am aware the situation sounds far-fetched." He answered Gregorian's mockery. "But the proof lies in the number of those killed by the same creature. Bethany D'Chlavic's life came to a terrible end-her body torn up at the hospital. Nasha Vyrm, a second-grade language teacher was found decapitated and deboned. Oh, I'm sorry, doctors, am I getting too graphic for you? Are you squeamish about the fact that people are being attacked without cause and clue?"

Doctor Quiv Gritzmacher stood, her height rather distinguishable among her peers. "Doctor Scott, I don't think the community questions your claims, but the source. Most certainly people have died. Most certainly there are bodies. But what is not certain is who attacked them and why. If these . . . 'monster dogs' as you say, actually exist, than why has no one else really seen them?"

Kyle paused, unsure how to proceed. He felt as though he were smashing his head into a titanium bulkhead. _They don't believe me._ he sent to Voodoo who remained patiently outside the hospital.

_Welcome to the world of politics, Kyle._ Voodoo answered back.

That was no help.

Kyle's eyes fell to his right hand, lightly wrapped in a transparent bandage to keep out infection. He wanted to scream at his idiotic colleagues. How could people be so blind? "Twenty-five hundred years ago, communities refused to believe in psychics and telepaths. They persecuted such people, condemning them for what they thought to be demon-possession. Now we see them for what they are: gifted. Have we come so far in our vision of the universe only to turn our backs on something new and alien? If we accept things such as telepathy and pyrokenetics, and telemechanics, how can we find it impossible that people are being attacked by poltergeists?"

No one gave him an answer.

The meeting disbursed shortly after and Kyle stepped outside, hoping no one would confront him face-to-face about his assumed lunacy. From what others told him, Kyle was highly regarded among his peers. He knew too, from what little research he had time for, that much of what knowledge was stored on Alean and Medbay in West Central, was due in part by what he, Jill and Skywolf attained over the millennium.

A sense of despondency settled over Scott. He had lost so much in such a short period of time and pulling his life back together seemed an immeasurable task. No one really knew how he felt. They assumed he already knew-it was so frustrating!

A tall, strong gentleman in dark hair and rich blue eyes approached, flashing a broad grin. "Up for some coffee?" Steve offered.

Kyle gave him a light smile in turn, saying nothing.

"I'm sorry it didn't go over too well." Parker laid a hand on Kyle's shoulder as they made their way toward Voodoo, now in jet form, waiting to take them back to West Central.

Kyle paused before they boarded. He seemed reluctant to stare his friend in the eye. "I don't understand why they wouldn't listen to me." Kyle's face turned to dismay. He glanced away, then back at his friend, "Steve, it's going to come back. It's just a matter of time. And I have no clue who they might attack first."

"Even before they finish some old business?" Steve's eyes bounced at Kyle's hand, indicating the dog-beasts would come back for Doctor Scott, first. He watched as Kyle inadvertently slipped his hand in his coat pocket to hide his embarrassment. Steve affectionately whacked Kyle's shoulder. "Come on. Let's get some coffee." And he boarded Voodoo first.

Voodoo dropped them at the mall and took off to attend other business. Steve and Kyle slowly traversed the atrium, passing other food stands of too many varieties. They crossed the central seating area and entered a tiny coffee shop overlooking the mall's center court-complete with an indoor park and jungle gym for little kids. The two took a booth and waited silently for the waitress. One waiter appeared and set two glasses of iced water then promised a waitress would be with them momentarily.

Steven drained his water almost immediately. Kyle stared out the window, his expression burdened by the defeat at the meeting. His fingers touched the cold glass, his mind rolled the meeting's events over and over. He wondered what he could have said differently that might have made their change their minds.

Steve watched for several long seconds, hoping for some sign that his friend would mentally return and talk openly. But Kyle's thoughts lay somewhere else entirely.

The waitress poured fresh ice water in Steve's glass and produced a pen and pad.

"Coffee." Steve simply requested. "Make his a double with cream and cinnamon."

The order took Kyle by surprise and it brought him out of his despondent mood. "Cream and cinnamon?"

"Sure. That's how you've always liked your coffee."

Kyle looked puzzled and horrified. Weird taste in coffee. But Steve merely grinned as the waitress set their coffees in front of them. He added a little sugar to his coffee and quietly stirred. Kyle calmed and smiled lightly. "Steve, I've been thinking." He watched as his friend grinned, but did not make eye contact. The doctor wondered if Parker was laughing at him. "I think I'm going back to Chenobis."

Steve was about to take a sip but hesitated and cast his eyes at Kyle. He slowly set the cup down and seriously stared at Doctor Scott. "Back to the beginning, Kyle?" He asked quietly.

Kyle eyed his drink suspiciously, watching as the cinnamon filtered into the coffee's black abyss. "Beth is the only one who must have known what was happening. I think my answers lie with her."

Steve sipped his hot coffee and reveled the warmth as it coated his throat. "I can't let you go alone." He objected.

"Why?" Kyle asked innocently.

"Well think on it," Steve answered, "me sitting here, allowing an amnesiac to run around loose in the galaxy? Come on!"

Steve's joke lightened the doctor's heart and Kyle quietly chuckled. He sipped his coffee and found its flavor very rich. He took another wonderful sip.

"Give me at least six hours to find the little boy's room and some extra clothes." Steve requested.

"It takes you six hours to find the restroom?" Kyle asked.

"Well . . . there's finding the place then actually choosing the stall . . . that takes effort."

Kyle couldn't help laughing. He set the coffee down to keep it from spilling. "Your partner actually lets you out in public like this?"

Steve stared at him blankly then turned to his coffee. "No, I escape sometimes."

That earned another bit of laughter from the quiet doctor. Kyle gazed back out the window, his smiled slowly fading, but his heart no longer as heavy. He sipped his coffee and something else came to mind: "Steve, there is a problem."

"Hmm, hmm?"

"I don't recall enough to patch everything together. I mean, I recall Beth's name. I remember how she died. I remember having lunch with another doctor. But not much more than that."

"You know, we did suggest regression hypnotherapy for you."

"I know." Kyle replied guiltily. "I just wasn't ready for it."

Steve reached across the table just squeezed Kyle's left hand for a moment. He knew. He knew. "What about now?"

Kyle's face held doubt, but his eyes reflected resolution. "If there's anything left up here," he pointed to his head, "I do have a right to know."

Steve smiled grimly and finished his coffee.

"Just try to relax, Doctor Scott." Shy Tunuvu had been asked to work with patients at the West Central hospital before. Although she had never dealt with the Interface Community at large, she had worked with emotionally disturbed patients off-world. And since Soundwave wasn't readily available, it was agreed to give her a try.

Scott seemed clearly nervous but he tried to stay calm, his eyes gazing at Steve then at Jill when she finally stepped in.

"What I'm going to do, is merely put your conscious mind at ease. You can stop whenever you feel it best." Shy settled into a chair in front of Kyle and smiled sweetly. Her plump form rested comfortably in the seat and she set her hands in her lap.

Kyle was just about to close his eyes when the door opened again and Voodoo and Soundwave entered the room.

Kyle smiled knowing Voodoo was going to erupt in a fit.

"Here I go out and work hard all day long and what do you do?" The Sentinel admonished, "you do stupid things and don't bother to tell me about them."

"It isn't stupid." Kyle answered quietly. "I just want to see if the holes in my head are real."

Voodoo turned to the others. "I don't know why you're bothering to see what's in there. I've known this man for centuries and I can tell you there's nothing there."

"Well, it's nice to have confirmation regarding my mind, Voodoo." Kyle folded his arms.

"Confirmation is the easy part." Voodoo retaliated. "It's the proof that takes time."

"We really don't have time for this." Steve broke in. "Unless, of course, Voodoo, you'd rather substitute."

"Nobody's gonna poke around in MY mind." Voodoo snarled.

"They couldn't find it if they wanted to." Kyle added quietly.

"Now that's uncalled-"

"I think we're ready to start." Jill interjected.

It cut Voodoo off, but he made a sour face and leaned against the wall, arms crossed. Soundwave hung back for the moment, merely remaining in case the psychiatrist had problems.

Kyle tried to settle, having difficulty because Voodoo pouted through their link. _I'm sorry!_ he sent.

_We're supposed to rely and trust each other._ Voodoo seethed.

_I do trust you. I just have to get used to it all over again, that's all. _

Voodoo calmed, sending waves of apology and a mental embrace. Kyle drank that comfort in and settled quickly under hypnosis.

"Where are you?" Shy asked.

"Hmm . . . in my quarters."

"And what do you see?"

"A mess." Kyle looked around his home, finding bookshelves turned over, a glass coffee table shattered.

"What kind of mess? What happened?"

"A fight. Looks like a bad one."

"Was anybody hurt?"

Kyle hesitated and Steve could clearly see him flinch. "No. But I see blood on the wall."

Shy opened her eyes, mildly surprised. "Did someone die? Is the blood splattered?"

"No. The walls are just bleeding. Something passed through them and left a trail."

Shy drew a deep breath. "Doctor Scott, I'd like you to travel back beyond this incident. I'd like you to move back a few days prior to the mess. Tell me where you are, what you see."

"I'm in the hospital, in the recovery ward."

"Do you know why you're there?"

"Uhm . . . I suffered from traumatic shock."

"From what, Doctor?"

"Forced phasing."

Voodoo diverted his gaze away from the stares of his colleagues. Not all of them knew what had happened. Kyle felt shame radiate from his partner and sighed.

"It's okay, Voodoo." He said out loud. "It's not your fault. I-I see a monster there in the room with me. It-it's on me! Jill! Jill . . . Jill was there and she blocked it . . ." Kyle relaxed again.

All attention fell from Voodoo to Kyle. Shy swallowed loudly. "Doctor Scott . . . when do you see this monster?"

"All the time I was there. It tried to attack Steven once, but Midnight came in the room and the dog-beast ran out through the wall."

Shy fell quiet for a moment. She sighed, feeling the fear and distress flowing from Kyle. "Doctor Scott, what do you know or remember of this monster? When did you first see the beast?"

"I don't know." Doctor Scott mourned. "It comes and goes whenever it pleases. It hates Voodoo."

"Oh? And why is that?"

"His life force exists on a different frequency. All the Transformers' life forces exist on a different frequency." Kyle opened his eyes and they fell on Steven. He had no expression, but he knew he was staring at his friend. Shy went on asking another question, but Kyle didn't hear her. A rumble of tones flitted across his mind. Fragments of memories faded away like melting snow. "It talks to me." Kyle finally volunteered. "It told me how evil Voodoo was, that Voodoo . . . was going to kill me." Kyle bent over and hid his face in shame. "I'm so sorry, Voodoo!" He rasped. "I'm so sorry!"

Voodoo moved to comfort his love but Soundwave held him back and shook his head.

"Doctor Scott," Shy started again, "Let's go somewhere else. Let's move above this and see where we are concerning your memory. What you need to do is pull yourself up above your mind. Think of your memory as land and the future as an ocean. And think of all your experiences and as much of your past as you can. Now, translate all that onto land-mass. Can you, Doctor Scott, give me a ratio of memory-land verses the sea?"

Kyle wasn't sure what she meant at first. But he changed the scenery as she suggested. He sighed and organized his soul. Before him stretched wide open spaces. A great sea of time rippled and reflected the colors of a soft pastel sky. Then land began to form. Small islands faded into existence and some could hardly be seen. Gradually, the land masses grew, some more than others.

"Doctor Scott," Shy asked quietly, "What do you see?"

Kyle shook his head, mournful. "Huge . . . gaps. Some places aren't there at all. There's one place . . . I think that's my experience as a doctor. It's huge. There's another . . ." And Kyle opened his eyes, totally heedless of anyone else in the room. But his dark eyes locked onto Voodoo. "I've been in battle with you?" He asked quietly.

_Yes, Kyle._ Voodoo replied privately.

_I'm a medic and a warrior? _

_And a good one. _

_Such a terrible contradiction! _

Kyle closed his eyes again and examined another large island. But a set of deep cold eyes pierced right through him and foul breath touched his cheek. Kyle flinched with a start. He heard Shy call his name. Someone touched him. Someone called his name in urgency. Jill, maybe.

_Kyle._ In the middle of panic, he heard Voodoo's soft, comforting voice. Voodoo filled him, touched his troubled mind and wrapped his heart with a mental kiss.

_SOMETHING'S THERE!_ he shouted through the link. _It's-it doesn't belong there!_

"Doctor Scott?" Shy called. But her patient was unresponsive, locked some place where she could not reach him. She turned to Soundwave for help but when the Decepticon Lieutenant tried to press gently past the Human's defenses, he was confronted by violent images and terrible metal fangs. The powerful visuals snapped at him and Soundwave found himself kicked out. The Decepticon flinched. His optical visor flashed in mild surprise, but he said nothing.

Shy wasn't about to give in. She sat forward in her chair. "What is that island?" Shy pressed. "Does it have a name? Where does it come from?"

But Kyle bowed over in distress. The visions shot away from him and all his mind could conjure were huge dark gaps. He had lost time. He had no recollection of entire decades in his life. The distress kept him from saying anything more and he weakly reached to Voodoo for comfort.

The Sentinel wrested away from Soundwave's grip and knelt beside his friend and gently massaged his shoulders. "Kyle." He whispered.

"It's all gone." Kyle's voice cracked under emotional strain. "I can't see anything more. I'm sorry. It's all gone. There's just voices and things I know I should remember. But they're not there anymore. I'm sorry."

Voodoo paid no attention to the disappointment registering on the faces of their companions. They should not have expected Kyle to do so much, anyway. Well, the hypno-thing was a dumb idea.

"Wait a minute!" Jill snapped her fingers. "Voodoo, were you and Kyle linked before or during the accident?"

"Yeah. That's how I took a plunge into the ocean." Voodoo's answer came in a snarl. He didn't give a damn about their little mind game. He sat before his friend and concentrated on trying to comfort Kyle. He smoothed Kyle's blonde-white hair.

"And before?"

Voodoo grunted first, then realized his hostility was only agitating the very people who were trying to help his partner. "Yeah. I tried to get him to tell me what was going on, but he wouldn't talk to me. Why?"

Jill nodded, smiling. "See, although you don't know what's going on consciously, your subconscious is part of Kyle's. The Sentinel's/Seeker's subconscious acts like a tape recorder. Except you just tuck the memories away. I'm willing to bet if we were to tap into your subconscious, we'd find out what happened."

Voodoo glared at her. He didn't like the idea of anyone set loose in his head.

"Perhaps Soundwave can delve deeper into Doctor Scott's mind." Shy suggested.

"No!" Voodoo snapped. "This is enough! Bring him out!" He stared hard at the psychic. She really had no idea what this was doing to his partner. "Damnit, I said bring him out!"

Shy stared at the Sentinel, who radiated intense anger. He was protecting Kyle and she could sense he felt Kyle's emotional strain. Shy glanced at Jill who grimly nodded in agreement. The psychic took a deep breath, a little unnerved.

"Doctor Scott, I'm going to count to three. And when I do, I want you to awake, forgetting the unsettled feelings and feeling refreshed and relaxed. One. Two. Three."

Kyle came to, still a little unnerved, but not so that it overwhelmed him. He mentally clung to Voodoo who emotionally wrapped himself around his friend.

Steve stepped out from behind Jill. "Well, at least we know a little more than we did."

"No." Kyle mourned. "Voodoo's right. My head's nothing but a big blank."

"That's not necessarily true." Jill countered. "We can still tap into Voodoo's head and retrieve a few of your own memories. Voodoo said you two were linked at the time of the incident. Chances are, your memories are locked in his head. And, I'm also willing to bet there are other memories that can be transferred from him to you."

The two exchanged hopeful glances and Voodoo finally faced Jill, his opticless features reflected some encouragement. "What do I need to do?"

Tiny droplets of delicious spring rain fell over his body. Tiny fruit blossoms sweetened the air and Kyle felt safer than he had in a long time.

The tiny droplets kissed his face and the doctor slowly opened his dark eyes. A strong presence wrapped itself in and all around him and hemmed him in from a distant despair. Kyle closed his eyes again, feeling the droplets shower kindly over his . . . naked . . . body.

Now he was awake.

He instantly locked eyes with Voodoo's blank face and the robot's lip components turned upward in a grin. "I knew that would wake you eventually." The Sentinel warrior purred.

Kyle silently blinked, not sure what to think or say. He sat up in Voodoo's hands, finding his naked self in unfamiliar surroundings. His eyes scanned the area, finding what might be another area of the park close to the hospital. But Kyle didn't think that was the right location; all the trees were different here. He finally gazed back at Voodoo.

"Where am I? And what are we doing here? And . . . where are my clothes?"

"You're in the North Sanctuary in West Central." Voodoo answered simply. "We're here because you passed out after the memory transfer. And your clothes are back at my place."

Kyle pointed in a general direction toward his home. "You brought me all the way here without my clothes?" He almost stammered over his own words. Doctor Scott's eyes narrowed when Voodoo's lips turned up in amusement. "This is not funny, Voodoo."

"Yes it is." The Sentinel answered. "You humans all think funny. You regard your physic as art, but you insist on wearing things to cover it."

Kyle's eyes widened with annoyance. "I am NOT going to go into a philosophical debate over my nudity! What is going through your head? What if someone sees me like this?"

The first question earned Kyle a hard opticless gaze from the Sentinel.

_Kyle._ the voice was soft, but loud in Kyle's head and he flinched. Voodoo did it to remind Doctor Scott of their link, that he didn't have to ask questions like that. Voodoo smiled again. "What's a matter? Afraid a girl might come along and assault you?"

Kyle mutely brooded.

Voodoo shook his head. He didn't need to ask permission from anyone to do anything-that included Doctor Kyle Scott. _Besides, _he softly sent, _You've always enjoyed these little surprises._

_Did not._ Kyle argued.

_Did too. _

_Did not! Since when have I ever enjoyed waking up in the middle of town in nothing but the hair on my skin!_ Kyle waited a couple of beats, but received no answer. He fell silent, not sensing anything from Voodoo, wondering if he said something wrong. Confusion and shame touched him, fearful Voodoo was angry and had shut himself out of their link. Now he could not look Voodoo in the face.

_It isn't you, Kyle._ Voodoo gently sent after a long moment. _I just wanted to share a quiet moment with you, that's all._

Kyle swallowed hard, still unable to look his friend in the eye. Voodoo's mood swings were difficult to interpret at times. Voodoo sent an emotion so strong Kyle thought it would cut off his breathing. It fell over him and the doctor had to hold himself up by his hands. Voodoo was suddenly sorry about something and when the shock of the emotion faded, Kyle realized Voodoo was apologizing.

"I have to leave for a while, Kyle. There's an assignment I have to attend. I'll be gone for a couple of weeks."

Kyle was about to roll his eyes and ask why Voodoo couldn't just take him along.

_It's really dangerous. No organics can enter the area there at South Continent. Even Mid won't let Steve go with him on inspection runs. They say the air there is poisoned and the acid rate is very high, even by Transformer standards._ Voodoo set Kyle on a rockface near the waterfall and handed him a beach towel.

Kyle sent him a pained expression. "You really have to go?"

Voodoo shrugged. "Even nomads like me have to carry their load, too. I volunteered because I can move pretty fast and zero in on really tight spots."

Kyle wrapped the towel around his waist and frowned. "I think you already know what I plan to do."

"Chenobis." Voodoo answered.

Kyle nodded.

Voodoo frowned. "I don't like the idea. I don't want you to go. But I can't stop you, either."

"Steve said he'd come with me." Doctor Scott answered.

"Steve isn't a jet. Steve can't fly you out under emergency conditions." But Voodoo had to digress; what happened to Kyle occurred while Voodoo himself wasn't around. Perhaps with Parker being there, nothing serious will happen.

Kyle smiled, his eyes studying the rock obviously imported from some other world. _I think Steve would make an okay babysitter. From what I've gathered, he's earned your trust._

_True._ Voodoo answered. A space of silence passed between them until Voodoo set his finger under Kyle's chin and blankly gazed at his Interface. "I just don't want anything more to happen to you, Kyle. You're so . . ." Voodoo couldn't finish the sentence.

"Vulnerable." Kyle answered for him. Now he studied the Sentinel and gave him a professional but reassuring smile. "We will be there a few hours, a day at the most. We're just going to find out what happened to that Beth woman, that's all. We'll be fine, Voodoo. Really."

Voodoo kept his smile grim, saying nothing more. He didn't like the idea at all. But for once he wasn't going to argue about it either.

Kyle dried his hands of dishwater and answered the door to his private quarters. Steve stood there, a sloppy grin plastered over his face. Black armor minus a helmet encased his body.

"Hey." Steve greeted. "You about ready?"

"Sure. Let me get a coat."

The smile died on Parker's lips. "Coat?" He echoed.

"Yeah." Kyle answered, slipping on a black leather trench coat. "Why?"

"This is not going to work." Steve's blue eyes stared hard at Kyle. Kyle just stared back. "No. This is not . . ." He entered the apartment, the door closing after him. He tracked into the bedroom, Kyle watching him and finally following.

"Steve, what are you doing?"

Parker shot him an annoyed expression. "You are NOT wearing that to Chenobis."

Kyle was inclined to laugh, but all he did was smile. "You're sounding like Voodoo. What's wrong with my clothes?"

Parker rummaged through the closet and under the bed before he found whatever it was he sought and threw a light weight metal case at Kyle. "Are you kidding? If I took you off Cybertron looking like that Voodoo would broast me for lunch. Put it on!"

Kyle stared at the case, then gave Steve a puzzled look. Then he put two and two together. "Armor?" He asked. "I have armor?" Steve crossed his arms and simply stared at Kyle with his piercing blue eyes. Doctor Scott grinned, feeling rather silly. "Broasted." He repeated. "Okay."

Chenobis didn't look like anything Kyle remembered. He recalled the pale rose sky, the squat rose-colored buildings and the lithe, grey-skinned people. But he did not remember the trees or the vehicles, the children and the population of the city which he visited not more than a few weeks ago. He had forgotten how people stared at him. Now he felt more uncomfortable because of the armor he wore. He wondered if they felt threatened by it. Steve seemed unconcerned, listening to a clerk via translator as she gave him directions to the hospital.

Parker led Kyle out the space port toward a waiting taxi and ushered the doctor in first. Kyle settled but kept glancing at every direction, shaking his head. "I don't remember any of this, Steve. I thought Voodoo said some of my memories were transferred from him."

"They were." Steve answered lightly. "But it takes time for your subconscious to reorganize them." He met Kyle's puzzled gaze and smiled reassuringly. "You didn't come to Chenobis like this anyway, Kyle. Voodoo brought you down."

Kyle nodded once in realization and relaxed.

The hospital did seem familiar to Doctor Scott as he and Steve took the first five steps to the entrance. They traversed the short hallway, glancing at three old ladies sitting at a bench. One knitted with knobby hands, the second chattered while the third stared at the two men. Her dark eyes shifted from Kyle to Steve and back, almost suspicious. She turned to her companions and muttered something as they passed.

The receptionist talked and typed at the same time and when she finally gave them her attention, her whole face lighted, the large smile aiming right at Kyle.

"Doctor Scott!" She greeted. "It's so good to see you again! Oh we had hoped you were not offended by that nurse. He disappeared, you know. We don't know-"

"I'm sorry," Steve broke in, "can you tell us who Doctor Scott was with that day? Which doctor, I mean?"

The receptionist's face fell completely blank. "With?"

"Yes." Kyle answered quietly. "I can't seem to remember the name of the doctor who treated Beth D'Chlavic."

"Zenthemp?" She guessed.

Steve silently turned to Kyle, carrying the receptionist's raised brows on his own expression. Kyle glanced from him to her and back then shrugged. "It sounds right." He guessed and gave an uncertain wry smile.

Steve smiled confidently at Kyle, then at the girl. "We were wondering when Doctor Zenthemp would or might be available."

"Right now." A cheerful voice sounded behind them. Kyle and Steve turned to greet what might be a humanoid in his late fifties, thinning hair and glasses. He extended a hand and the two Interfaces took turns shaking it. "What can I do for you now . . .Doctor . . . Scott?" His grin grew ever wider. "It's good to see you again! How are you?"

"I'm fine, thank you." Kyle answered quietly. "We're here to ask a few questions regarding Beth D'Chlavic, the odd circumstances surrounding her death."

Zenthemp's face turned downward and he nodded gravely. "It was an oddity. You're here to investigate it? No crime has been committed."

"No." Kyle hastily agreed. "No crime. We just feel . . ." he glanced at Steve, his mind quickly searching for appropriate words, " . . . something might have been overlooked somehow."

Zenthemp again nodded. "Well, the case and files were closed, labeled a suicide." He eyed Kyle who unconsciously rubbed his right hand. "However you're more than welcome to go through them; we had to keep everything on file for the court."

Steve followed Zenthemp's gaze and gently pushed Kyle's hand down and protectively moved a little in front of his friend. "We would be more than grateful for that, Doctor Zenthemp." He answered quickly.

"This way." Zenthemp invited. Kyle and Steve exchanged anxious looks. Then Kyle turned a bit lost at his behavior, wondering how he could be so mindful of something that lay beneath his armor. Steve silently laid an assuring hand on his shoulder and followed Zenthemp down the hall.

No sooner did Zenthemp pull the file than he was called away on emergency. He quickly excused himself and fled the room. Kyle and Steve stared at the door, waiting for it to close. Kyle read the medic charts while Steve poured through the police reports and photos.

"Steve?"

"Hmm?"

"I just remembered something."

Parker's eyes drifted to Kyle, pleased that the memory transfer from Voodoo already started working. "And?"

"And I remember Zenthemp was given several bills from Beth's family. They included bills from two psychics and a witch doctor."

"A witch doctor?" Parker raised a brow but Kyle nodded without returning the gaze. Steve continued to watch his friend a moment longer, studying his body language, looking for symptoms, any nuances, something that might be out of the ordinary. Was he looking for a relapse like that day Kyle fainted, or was he just being a mother hen? Steve's lips pressed and decided he was just concerned. His eyes fell back to the files, trying not to wince at the gruesome photos portraying the bloodied room or Beth's body, torn asunder as though by an animal.

"Steve," Kyle called again.

"Hmm?" Steve glanced up, his mind not really on what Kyle had to say.

Kyle held up a bill from 'Prophetess Alandra.' "We could go visit one of them."

Steve closed the file and stared at Kyle, studying the doctor's eyes.

"What?" Kyle drew the bill back. Parker's striking blue eyes scrutinized him and made him a little uncomfortable.

"Are you sure you can handle this?" Steve tried not to swallow the lump in his throat. The photos of a stranger were disturbing enough. Steve could not imagine something like that happening to Kyle.

Kyle mutely nodded. "I'm okay with it, Steve. Really. I'm okay with it." He drew a deep breath. "Besides, someone

assigned this babysitter to me and so far, I haven't been able to shake him." Kyle smiled.

Steve didn't. But he forced a wry smile, knowing Kyle was joking. "What's the address?"

The shopping center was a cavalcade of light, music and laughter. Working like none of the other places in his home town on Cybertron, Kyle found he liked fewer parts of this center than he cared to admit. Most of the shops resembled more of an entertainment booth, offering things like gimmicks and candy rather than actual merchandise. Even the book stand demanded you listened to some cheesy, pushy salesman before being allowed to browse through their stock. Steve was willing to stand and listen to the hard-pitch sell, but Kyle didn't have patience for it and pressed his way through the crowd of ladies and by-passers toward what looked like a coffee stand. The noise was annoying and Kyle tried his best to ignore it. Steve finally caught up with him and handed him a flimsy paperback made of large waxed green leaves bound by soft leather.

"The guy said it was supposed to bring luck."

Kyle eyed him with an 'I'll-bet' expression. "A book made of over-sized leaves is supposed to bring luck? What kind of culture is this, anyway?"

Steve grinned. "It can't be worse than Earth." He answered lightly. "Especially the food."

"Here!" Someone shouted before Kyle could answer, "you two, Tentchi!"

As if the woman's voice called them by secret name, Kyle and Steve turned right to her, and with their eyes, followed her into an old weather-worn wooden building. She waved for them to follow her inside and with a glance, Kyle bee-lined first.

Steve followed, a bit wary and surprised at his own behavior.

The store smelled of old books and older wood. Glass and wood cases containing odd statues, bowls or candles stood, locked to would-be shoplifters. Books burdened tables and shelves and a large white Manx cat lay atop a counter near a cash register, its huge round eyes carefully considered the two Humanoid Interfaces with some suspicion.

"In here." The woman's voice called from behind a curtain.

Kyle glanced at Steve as though asking permission to proceed, but Steve just stared at the curtain, moving toward it as though drawn. They peeked in, beckoned again only by the woman's insistent hand. Kyle took one of only two chairs in front of a table, Steve finally found his way into the other.

The little dark room lit up the moment the woman blew on a candle and Kyle's eyes shot wide. He had never seen anything like it before and he instantly thought about leaving.

"Don't be afraid." The woman quickly held up a hand. "I am not here to harm you."

Steve vaguely recalled something similar from his own home world and relaxed a little. "Prophetess Alandra, I assume." He guessed quietly.

A thirty-something woman, light grey of skin, dark hair, smiled kindly. She brushed a few strands of hair from her eyes, the multiple bracelets on her writs tinkled as she moved. "I felt your presence in the square, but had to wait until you were close enough to hear my voice."

"This is rather theatrical." Kyle blurted. "Who told you we would be here?"

She smiled knowingly. "I noticed your armor. It marks you plainly from the citizens. You should not come to such places as this in such an obvious fashion."

"You didn't answer my question." Kyle calmly repeated.

"Doctor Scott, I think you can answer that for yourself. As for what I'm after . . . I have chosen to answer your other question."

"I can't handle this." Kyle took to his feet.

"Kyle, just wait a minute." Steve ordered quietly. He waited until Kyle took his seat again then turned to Alandra. "What do you know or remember of Beth D'Chlavic?"

"She was in terrible danger. I told her she had to burry the thing she stole from the site."

Both Human Interfaces blinked simultaneously. "And she didn't." Steve assumed.

"Not in time." Alandra answered just as quickly. "They and their guardian now stalk prey."

"Who?" Kyle's heart rammed into his throat.

"I can't say." Alandra replied quietly.

"Can't or won't?" Steve asked directly.

"Can't. I don't know the spirits. I don't know their personal history. But they have traveled these streets before and many have died because of their crusade. They seek blood, and they also seek life and none have been found worthy in their eyes. So they steal the life force and kill for pleasure." Alandra's dark eyes turned to Kyle and he looked away, unnerved. "They have touched you, Doctor. They were going to kill you but I think they found you worthy."

Kyle paled, his stomach knotted and he could not even look at Steve.

Steve glanced at his friend and knew he needed to get Kyle out, but he had one last question. "What did you call us? You called us something."

"Tentchi."

"Yeah . . ." Steve's eyes narrowed. "I know that word."

"It is the ancient description of your soul, what you are now, your species." Alandra answered plainly. "You and your Interface are Tentchi-Dokiah, one inside the other. Your partner is Dokiah. You are Tentchi. You asked how I knew you. You are the new species in the universe. The universe recognizes you now as a new creature and you may soon find others who will become Tentchi-Dokiah. Every new species must be given permission to exist."

"You said it was an ancient word." Kyle managed to recover enough to listen in.

She turned to him, a light entered her eye. "There have been other Tentchi-Dokiah, but they have passed on, their existences long forgotten by younger races."

Steve blinked. "You mean there have been other Interfaces in the past?"

"Not like yours. Your robotic friends were not supposed to exist like this, but sometimes when someone plays with the laws of nature, they backfire."

Steve stood, knowing this was spooking Kyle. "Alandra, thank you for your help."

She leaned forward, arms over her table. "Beth's family would love a visit from you. They are ill over her death and your visit would give them peace. What happened to Beth was not her fault. Trust your Dokiah, Doctor. He loves you deeply." Alandra sent Steve a knowing smile and Steve interpreted it as though she knew he knew Mid felt the same.

The neighborhood surrounding 39589 Sideline Road presented the two Cybertronians with kids, some light traffic and a few dogs. Tall slender trees stretched above them, their red-and-gold leaves seemed rather out of place to Kyle and Steve who were more accustomed to the greenery in the hydoroponics-influenced Human Communities of Cybertron. The grey skin of the Chenobian population also made the two men stop and stare several times. It was like watching a black-and-white movie, but everything else was in color.

Steve approached the door of Beth D'Chlavic's home first and rung the bell. His eyes scanned a shallow porch covered in spider webs and a neglected wind chime. He glanced at Kyle whose lips were drawn in a tight, nervous line. He himself found his feet shifting and Parker drew a deep breath, willing his body to control itself.

A young girl answered the door. Her dark, dark eyes shot at them with surprise, her mouth betraying the same shock. She gasped and swallowed air. Kyle knelt to her eye-level and smiled kindly. "Hello, there, young lady. Is your daddy home?"

Her eyes grew even wider. "Daddy!" She cried. "We have aliens at the door!" And she slammed the door shut.

Kyle blinked once then met Steve's eyes. Steve sniggered. "I'd guess we would be aliens, Kyle."

The widower opened his door and welcomed them in. He offered them a drink but both declined.

"Mister D'Chlavic," Kyle extended his hand for a shake. "I'm Doctor Kyle Scott. This is Steve Parker. I was brought in from Cybertron regarding your wife's condition."

The man's eyes darted from Kyle to Steve and back. "Didn't they tell you? My wife passed away little over two months ago."

Kyle nodded, having already noted the poor man's grieving state. He was a mess, hollow cheeks, bags under his eyes. The house was a shambles and on a table, bills sat piled, untouched. "Yes, sir." Kyle replied sympathetically. "I-I was present at the scene."

"She didn't kill herself." The man insisted. "No matter what the reports claim. Beth lost her memory, but she wasn't schitzo. She . . . she didn't remember me or the kids and I'm telling you, she just wasn't the same person."

"That's what we're here for, Mister D'Chlavic." Parker added softly. "We're also wondering what could have happened. What caused your wife to lose her memory to begin with? What exactly killed her?"

D'Chlavic shrugged and heavily sat on a footstool. He pointed his grey hand toward the rest of the furniture. "Uh, Whyler. And please, have a seat." He watched the suited strangers take a place at the sofa. Parker concentrated on him. Doctor Scott's glance took in the rest of the house and winked at Whyler's little girl who played a private game of peek-a-boo.

The poor man stood on the verge of tears. Steve knew he needed to handle this delicately. "Could you tell us . . . anything about Beth, perhaps symptoms or things she said, did, or unusual events?"

"It was all pretty obvious to me." Whyler blurted. "I don't know why no one else saw them. I saw those things. I knew what was attacking her and no one else did. I'd seen it many times. It'd come in the living room, this thing come right through the walls . . . next thing I knew, Beth was screaming and choking and she called my name and reach for me and I didn't know what to do. I just grabbed her and held her and then the attack was over but there she was, bleeding." His voice choked at that point and Steve turned to Kyle so as not to see Whyler cry.

Kyle had already left his seat, studying a dusty wood-and-glass case containing odd little bits of finds; tiny ceramic ceremonial bowls, carefully hand-painted in white and green. A tiny doll made of animal bone and skin, her face painted in a simple two dots and a smile. Several hand-made weapons of rock and wood lay on a separate shelf and among them lay a knife made of finely polished glass. Kyle couldn't take his eyes off it.

Parker took to his feet, finally noticing several framed photos of Whyler, his wife and children and several other photos of men at some kind of excavation. Steve glanced at Kyle who silently turned to him and observed the pictures from where he stood.

"Whyler," Parker called after a moment. "Are these the men she worked with? Are these your wife's business associates?"

Whyler wiped his face and sniffed, nodded vigorously and approached the collection. "Yeah. See, that's Rychal, the director. Left of him is Brundt. That's ol' Crames. He was a card. And that's Tenn. But Tenn wasn't there at the final dig. He took sick."

"And who's this?" Parker asked pointing to another photo with other people.

"That's Lell. Beth didn't like him. She said he gave her the shivers. That's, of course, Rychal, his brother and of course, Crames."

Kyle stepped over, gazing over Steve's shoulder, "Whyler, can you give us Rychal's address? Maybe he can answer some questions-'

"Can't do it." Whyler answered.

"Why?" Steve asked softly

"Rychal's dead. They found his and his brother's bodies pinned to a cave wall. At least, they found their skins pinned to the cave wall. Never did find anything else."

Kyle blanched. Steve said nothing. Whyler just kept staring at the pictures. "Beth really hated Lell. Said he kept slicing her with that stupid knife of his . . . he kept insisting it was accident. But Beth's no fool. She said ghosts danced in his eyes."

Kyle's eyes narrowed. "Whyler, did Beth ever discuss visiting a woman named Prophetess Alandra?"

"Eh? Alandra? Yeah. I said it was a dumb idea. I told her not to go messing with people like that . . .witch doctors and the sort and that she should . . . why are you asking?"

Kyle took another step closer, "Whyler, did Beth ever bring things home from her last assignment . . . ancient scrolls, a treasure chest or something of that nature?"

"Yeah." D'Chlavic crossed his arms. "Beth always brought stuff home. Not supposed to. She's supposed to turn them over to the museum. What's that got to do with it?"

Steve also crossed his arms, keeping his face cool. "We think there might be a connection between an article or an item she or one of her teammates might have uncovered and the dog-beasts."

Whyler's eyes shot wide. "How do you know about the dogs?"

Steve gazed at his companion and Kyle undid that part of his armor and the bandage around his right hand. He held the back of his hand to Whyler's vision while blood slowly fell from the unclosed wound.

Whyler's pasty expression turned paper-white and Steve thought for sure the poor man was going to faint. Whyler caught himself on the wall, his dark eyes remained fixed on Kyle's stigma.

Kyle mutely nodded. "She had something like this, didn't she? Beth came home with wounds that didn't heal. And Rychal and his brother were devoured by something that looked like a dog made of water and blood."

"Your wife did not commit suicide." Steve added while Kyle rewrapped his arm. "The team found something, or brought something back with them and it systematically killed them all one by one. Beth was one of the last ones killed, wasn't she?"

Whyler stumbled back to the footstool and nearly collapsed onto it. Steve felt sorry for opening such emotional wounds. Whyler gasped for breath, for composure. "They closed off the dig there. They won't let anybody near there. Not after the government men disappeared."

Kyle approached him and squatted in front of D'Chlavic. "Whyler, I am so sorry for the death of your wife. I am so sorry we have to ask you these questions. But if we don't find an answer, if we can't stop whatever it is that's committing these crimes, many, many more people will die. All we need from you is a starting point. Names, places, dates. Anything that will give us a head start."

Whyler stared at Doctor Scott for a long moment, carefully weighing the words. He finally smiled. "Beth was a good woman. She was strong, smart and brave." But tears welled in his eyes, "She married me. She married me." Whyler sniffed and wiped his eyes with his shirt sleeve. His frame straightened, a light of determination sparked in his eye. "Okay. Names, dates, places. I got it. The 'thorities asked for her journal. Beth always kept two journals just in case something happened to one of them. I got the 'riginal. They got the copy. They asked for the other, but I hid it in the kid's room. It was all I had. If it helps at all . . ."

Steve set a hand on Kyle's shoulder, staring intently at Whyler, "We promise to bring it back to you."

Whyler nodded. His back straightened. Some kind of hope had given him strength to move on.

Steve and Kyle returned to the town square in silence. Kyle wondered where this was leading them. Steve silently discussed the situation with Mid and informed him they were ready to return to Cybertron.

Steve and Kyle stepped to the port and waited for Midnight to return them to Cybertron. Midnight silently admonished himself through the link. He could not be immediately available to pick them up just yet. But Steve insisted he was fussing over nothing. They could wait. The Interface-and here Steve smiled at Alandra's phrase "Tentchi"- checked the time. "We have an hour before transport." He informed. Kyle gazed at him without expressionate response. "Coffee?" Steve lightly suggested.

Kyle finally smiled. "Coffee."

They found a café nearby (if that's what it was) resembling a conglomeration between a coffee shop, a bar and gift shop. Steve sipped his coffee and bounced his brows, surprised how much better it tasted than the imported stuff on Cybertron. Kyle just stirred his in silence. He had grown distant, somber. Beth's used and tattered journal sat at his hand, but Kyle did not touch it.

Steve knew this visit was hard on his friend, more so than what Kyle was willing to admit to himself. "Kyle," he softly called.

Silence.

"Kyle."

Kyle drifted from the untouched coffee to Steve's eyes. But he still said nothing.

"If you were stranded on an tropical island, what three things would you hope to have?"

Kyle continued to stare at him, his face a total blank. Then he blinked, his mind finally working its way from his problem to Steve's question. The solemn expression gave way to some puzzlement and Kyle creased his brows. "What would I be doing stranded on a tropical island?"

Steve's jaw dropped a little, surprised that Kyle missed the idea entirely. "Just . . . pretend that somehow you were stranded on an island and you had to choose three things with which to survive." He gave Doctor Scott a wry smile.

Kyle couldn't understand why Steve would be asking such an odd question. Was it a test of sorts? "Does the island have food and water?"

Steve smiled but disbelief filled his expression. He forced himself to be patient. "Yes, Kyle. Food and water."

Kyle tried to think again. His mind tried to squeeze everything he needed into three items, but his stressed mind wouldn't let him go that far. He finally shrugged. "Some kind of survival gear-"

"Kyle." Steve's voice strained to gently admonish his friend rather than laugh at him. "This is for fun."

"Oh." Kyle felt silly, forgetting his tendencies to overthink. He relaxed and a smile touched his lips: "My laptop, my stereo and a caseload of 'chocolate bunnies'."

Steve smiled broadly. "Me too."

Kyle's eyes drifted from him and finally he withdrew the spoon and sipped his coffee. Chocolate bunnies, he thought to himself and remembered the day Steve brought in the sheets of chocolate bounded by a book cover displayed as though it were a 'men's magazine.' Steve always seemed to know how to cheer someone up. And that thought brought up another memory for Doctor Scott and he chuckled quietly to himself, taking another careful sip of coffee.

"What?" Steve suddenly asked.

"What?" Kyle echoed. "What?"

"No. I asked you first."

"About what?" Kyle blinked and sipped again.

"You were laughing." Parker cleared. "What's funny?"

"Oh. Nothing." Kyle set his cup down, his eyes followed, but the smile did not leave his face.

Steve blinked. "It's a memory, isn't it? You remembered something."

"It's nothing, really, Steve."

"Neeeeeep." Parker answered, sounding like a buzzer. "Wrong answer. Strike one. You get three strikes. You hit strike three and I get to pull a prank on you when we get home."

Kyle's smile broadened. "No you won't."

"What were you laughing about, Kyle? What did you remember?" Steve pressed.

"Nothing." Doctor Scott insisted. "It was-"

"Neeeeeeeep! Strike two! You're running out of options, Doctor. Better think fast and careful." Parker's striking blue eyes refused to let up and Kyle found himself locked into them. But the doctor himself wasn't ready to be intimidated yet.

Kyle shook his head, decidedly insistent. "Steve-"

"Neeeeeppp! Strike-"

"Okay! Okay!" Kyle finally laughed. "You win!" He sat back, a little uncomfortable. "I was just remembering how often you would end up in the ward, more incidentally under my supervision than anyone else. So I decided I would have a room reserved for you."

Steve slowly blinked, wondering where this was leading. "Yeah." He replied slowly, struggling to recall how many times he had ended up in 'the ward.'

"Well, I purchased that one room for you." Kyle sipped his coffee, this time his eyes reflected a slight case of guilt.

It took a moment for the idea to register. Steve blinked again then realized what was so funny. His blue eyes narrowed, piercing Kyle's dark brown eyes. "You did not!" He playfully snarled.

Kyle smiled warmly. "Yes I did. Room 204. Section B. Everybody knows it. That's why you're always complaining about the view being the same."

"I do not believe you!" Steve shouted. "Kyle!"

"What?" Kyle chuckled lightly.

"That's a lousy choice of rooms!" Steve watched as his friend set his coffee down again and laughed quietly. But a sparkle of gratitude touched Steve's eyes. Outside a slight case of shyness and some loss of self confidence, Kyle Scott had not changed. He was very much the same quiet gentle person Steve had known for hundreds of years. Steve silently vowed to save his friend from whatever evil had touched Kyle.

Doctor Scott averted his eyes back to the coffee. He was glad to be going back home. He hadn't been a few hours away from Cybertron and already he missed Voodoo. Kyle made a note to examine Beth's journal at Medlab. There he could use more than good reading light. He set the cup down, silently wondering how Voodoo was doing. He heard nothing from his friend and hoped all was well.

Kyle was about to lift his cup again when his eyes contacted a tall figure dressed in a long dark coat. A hat concealed the head, gloves covered the hands. It walked (floated?) across the café/bar with uncertainty, gazing into the face of every customer there. A sense of familiarity struck Doctor Scott, but he could not remember where he had seen such a figure before.

Steve caught the deeply troubled expression on his friend's face and turned around, trying to follow Kyle's gaze. He too spotted the tall coated figure and wondered why it disturbed Scott so. Parker glanced back at Kyle, his gaze fixed as though he were in a trance. Kyle's right hand twitched and he unconsciously rubbed it.

He needed to get his friend out of there. "Kyle." Steve softly called. "Kyle."

But Doctor Scott heard nothing. He stared at the figure as it slowly made its way toward them. Stay, a voice told him. Oh, stay and wait, my friend! You know you want to! Kyle found he could not take his eyes off the figure. His right arm hurt, but he could not move.

Steve stood and grabbed the journal first, then tugged at Kyle's arm. "Come on, let's get out of here."

But Kyle remained unresponsive.

Steve sighed and turned back, suddenly facing the stranger eye-to-eye. It had no face to speak of, say for a bubble of water outlined in red. Then gradually a dog's face made its way to the shapeless feature. Parker gave it a hard right cross but didn't wait to watch it fly against the nearby table. He turned back to Kyle who acted like someone waking from a bad dream. He tugged at Kyle's arm again. "Kyle! Come on!"

Kyle realized his mind went blank for a moment and he blinked. He dumbly followed Steve's demands, sliding out of the booth seat. He did not take notice of other people's staring eyes. Nor did he or Parker see the attacker as it flew back for them.

The coat was cast off and a shimmering stream of water and blood rushed its way toward them. It slammed Steve in the back, shoving him against the table, bucking his knees out from under him. Steve thought he could hear it growl. He landed hard on his back and he rolled, trying to protect himself from being hit on the front side.

Kyle flipped an empty table over and scrambled out of the way as the creature smashed it into a million pieces. Parker stood and produced a short-range phaser from subspace. He fired at it as the alien life force shot from one end of the room to the other. People ducked under tables or kissed the floor as Steve tried to kill it with conventional laser fire. But as it approached them, it split itself in half, knocking Kyle off his feet and against the edge of a nearby table, then slammed into Steve head-on, pounding him into the floor. It reformed itself into the physical shape of a human, its face still that of a dog's. Parker struggled with it for a second, determined to throw it off. But it conquered him with a deep bite in the back of his left shoulder. He groaned as icy teeth sunk further into him and Steve threw up shields to protect Midnight. The alien entity raced away then reversed, determined to attack Steve a second time.

Kyle managed to stagger off the floor; blood streamed from his head. He reached above the table next to him and snatched up a wine glass. He broke it and when the watery red shape came for Steve again, Kyle struck out at it. A howl of pain raced across the restaurant and the entity washed away.

Kyle waited, his breath not coming at all, his eyes wide with anticipation. The other customers stared at him, their eyes bulging. A woman finally got smart and ushered her two children out of the café. A tall elderly man followed.

But nothing else happened for several long moments. Kyle wasn't about to let his guard down. He waited while his hand bled and twitched.

The moment seemed to die down. The café employees called for emergency assistance and other customers wisely left the café, others stayed to watch. Kyle slowly knelt before his friend. He wiped blood from his face and tried to suppress his fears. Without realizing he automatically remembered how to use his armor, Kyle produced a med scanner from subspace but it registered nothing.

Confused, Kyle bounced his hand against it.

"Dammit!" He shouted at the scanner. Kyle bent over and frantically searched Steve for physical life signs, moving from one side of his body to the other. But Steve lay still and cold. "Steve!" He called. He checked Steve's pupils, Parker's face wet and cold under his hands. "Steve!" He rasped. Kyle's body started to shake. He checked Parker's pulse for the third time, finding nothing. He bent over, trying to control his slowly-rising panic. "Steve!" He called again. Kyle thumped his fist once against the armor, his mind racing to remember how to unfasten it. He found the shoulder latches and disconnected them, but the armor was designed to be difficult to removed and Kyle gritted his teeth, exasperated. His hand throbbed unmercifully, adding to his agitation. "Don't you die on me, Steve Marcus Parker. Or so help me, I will kick your ass!"

Steve drew a pain-filled breath while Scott tried to figure out how to remove the breast plate. Kyle didn't see Steve's hands twitch or open his eyes a moment. Parker took in his surroundings, finding everything doused in a terrible red haze. He closed his eyes again. His shoulder throbbed, shooting waves of pain into his stomach. He wondered how his attacker could have possibly penetrated the armor. Terrible cold bit into him and just then Parker realized Kyle said his whole name and cussed all in one breath. Steve couldn't help but smile while his breath came in gasps.

"Kyle?" Steve's voice weakly trailed to Doctor Scott's ears.

"Steve?" Kyle gasped in surprise and relief. He decided the scanner was obviously defective and he suppressed a shout of excitement.

"Midnight's gonna kill me for getting into trouble." Steve groaned.

"No he won't." Kyle smiled, relief washing over him. He wanted to check Steve over, make sure he hadn't been seriously injured. But he didn't want to move Parker, either.

"Yes his will." Steve insisted. "And then Voodoo will kill me for allowing you to get into trouble."

"You'll be just fine."

"Ah-huh. And then I'm going to kill you." Steve felt Kyle swiftly but gently check him for injuries. "It's my shoulder, Kyle." He answered his friend's unspoken question. "I think it bit me." Pain washed under his skin and Steve started falling asleep. His shields were draining him. He gazed back at Kyle who shook his head, unable to decide what to do. Then Steve's eyes shot wide. The creature faded back in, practically from nowhere. Its shape now reformed, towered high above Scott, poised to strike. Steve gaped, trying to warn his friend, but the words didn't come fast enough and the monster sunk a water-and-silver blade straight into Kyle's back, sliding all too easily through his armor.

Like a sheet of ice, the monster sliced under his skin and through his chest. Kyle gasped and froze as the cold bit down, down into his body, sending him straight into shock. Steve weakly lifted his arms and laid one hand on Kyle's back the other against his blonde-white hair as Kyle collapsed on top of him.

The entity shot up the café's ceiling and spread itself out like a cloud of water and blood. Then it plummeted upon the café's remaining customers and workers. Steve heard their screams and shrieks as they lost their lives. Then he closed his eyes and lost consciousness.

Parker woke in pain. His eyes failed to focus clearly, but he didn't need good perception to tell who else was in the room with him. He heard someone work with a needle (he'd been in hospitals often enough to tell what was going on) then scribble on a chart. He closed his eyes again and sighed.

_Is Kyle okay?_ he asked Midnight who sat in the room, watching him.

_He's in no danger. They couldn't find any wounds on him at all._ Midnight paused. _And I'm going to kill you._

Steve weakly smiled. _I know. But at least we made it off-planet alive. When did you pick us up?_

Midnight said nothing, but Steve could feel the Sentinel leader vibrate through the link. Mid wasn't at all happy about something, he was in one of those moods where just about anything could set him off.

_They're all dead, aren't they?_ Steve asked, meaning the other people in the café/bar.

Midnight didn't say anything. He didn't need to. Steve could tell by his silence the scene wasn't a pretty one. He decided he didn't want to know more about it.

"The book?" Mid asked out loud. The nurse in the room startled and shot a cross look at him as though he were talking to her.

"In the suit." Steve answered out loud. He didn't open his eyes. He could hear the tinkling sound of water as the nurse filled a basin. Parker forced himself to relax while she proceeded to give him a sponge bath.

_Did they find anything on my shoulder Mid? I can't feel any wrappings. _

Midnight again remained silent for a long moment. His sullen mood reflected hard on Parker and Steve frowned. _It's there._ the Sentinel leader answered sadly. _They tried all the same stuff they did with Scott. No results._

Steve lifted his chin as the nurse trailed the sponge down his neck and over his chest. It was there that Parker realized the bandage sat, wrapping completely around him. He opened his eyes when Midnight also Touched him there. But the touch came with sorrow. Steve mentally embraced Midnight, comforting his friend and insured him things would be alright.

_After all,_ he added, _Kyle and I are still alive. That thing didn't kill us. _

_It's the one thing that has me greatly concerned, Steve. Why? Why didn't it kill Kyle when it had the chance? Where did it come from? And how did it manage to injure you without damaging the armor? _

_Have you talked to Voodoo? _

_He just got back an hour ago. _

_Why don't you go talk to him, find out what happened that day Kyle disappeared? _

_I'm not leaving you right now. _

_Do I look like I'm in danger? Does it look like I'm going anywhere?_ Steve opened his blue, blue eyes and stared at Midnight meanfully.

Midnight finally smiled. "I'll be back in a while, Steve." he promised.

Steve mutely nodded and eyed his nurse as she prepared to redress his wound. He wondered why he hadn't suffered amnesia like Kyle did. He wondered about many other things.

"By the way," he asked the nurse, "What room am I in?"

"204." She answered simply.

"It looks different."

"We changed the bed around."

Kyle slept a great deal longer than Parker. Voodoo broke every speeding record he could think of to get back to West Central. He arrived just forty-five minutes after Midnight brought Kyle and Steve in from Chenobis and he hadn't left Kyle since. Voodoo cursed himself repeatedly for not listening to his own instincts. He should have taken Kyle with him instead, or stayed and taken Kyle and Steve to Chenobis or . . .

Although Doctor Gatchel insisted there really wasn't anything wrong with Kyle, Kayla attended him closely and took several trips to keep an eye on Steve at the same time. It annoyed Gatchel that Kayla, unlike most of his staff, was not under his authority and could more or less work freely. Voodoo at least took comfort in knowing that Kayla would not let Gatchel interfere with "Sentinel Community" affairs, as he put it.

Kayla checked Kyle's temperature for the umpteenth time and sighed with a shake of her head. "It would be more helpful if I knew what happened." She spoke more to herself rather than Voodoo. She turned examined his tense frame. "Have you been able to talk to him yet?"

"He's unconscious, Kayla." The Sentinel reminded.

"I know he's unconscious, Voodoo. But you should still try to reach him."

Voodoo stared at Kyle's silent form for a long moment then glanced at Kayla. The tall woman's dark eyes did not move from him. He gazed back at his Interface and concentrated, struggling to find his way to Doctor Scott through their link.

Silence intensified the moment. Where was Kyle? He wasn't responding to any means of communication. Where did he go? Voodoo shook his head. "Zippo. I'm not getting anything. He's unconscious."

Kayla wasn't satisfied. She laid her long taloned hand over Kyle's forehead and closed her eyes. For all they could find, there were no open wounds on Kyle, save that damnedable mark on his right hand. Yet he remained unconscious. The empath sighed and gazed back at Voodoo. "You are his Interface partner, Voodoo. You're the only one that can reach him. You need to try harder."

"By doing what?" Voodoo snarled. "I'm not telepathic, you know."

"Neither am I. But you do have a connection to him. That makes you more qualified than me. You're just going to have to try harder."

Voodoo glared at her the only way he could. But he gave in and tried again. Voodoo blocked everything out of his mind, concentrating solely on his partner. _A sixty-percent link doesn't cut it at this level!_ he growled to himself. He mentally pressed forward in the link, searching for any visible signs of Kyle's mind.

A cold blue-white image of a sheer-sided ice glacier shot into his mind. Its razor-sharp surface cut into him and Voodoo gasped and would have fallen had he not already been sitting. He bowed over in slight pain and mentally drew back. He caught his emotional balance and studied the thing before deciding whether or not to withdraw completely.

It was a memory. Something from the outside or someone else had planted it there on purpose and used the link to stabilize the image as a permanent reminder.

_Kyle._ Voodoo called. _Kyle?_ He realized in order to reach his friend, Voodoo would have to remove the memory-glacier or adjust it so that he could move around it. He settled a little more comfortably on the hospital room floor, aware that Kayla was monitoring both of them. Voodoo concentrated on the memory and tried to think of it as an image on a piece of paper. It was hard because the steadfast vision seemed so vast and so cold. But he kept chipping away at it, concentrating on making it no more significant than a two-dimensional picture on a computer monitor, something easily reduced in size then deleted. The memory fought his will, reestablishing its place, although it shrank in size every time it tried to reset itself in the link.

But it was Kyle that managed to push it away. He briefly acknowledged Voodoo's presence, but did not communicate. He mentally turned and hid away.

Voodoo pulled out of his trance and sighed heavily. Kyle had to relearn to use his shields and while Voodoo could still communicate with his partner, the Sentinel realized Kyle needed space. "Check him now." He ordered Kayla.

He wasn't aware of it, but four hours had passed and Kayla had drifted in and out of sleep waiting. She sprang to her feet the moment Voodoo spoke and scanned Kyle's life signs. Kyle opened his eyes once then fell back to sleep.

Voodoo merely stretched out by the bedside and shut down.

/ The shadowy figure smashed a few more cars and an explosion from an anti-gravity pickup truck shot metal in every direction. People escaped their vehicles as the dog-beast howled and plucked two people from the street and swallowed them whole. One female ran for dear life and just for sport, the beast, the mighty beast, whacked at her, tossing her frail body like a rag doll across two cars and into the window of a nearby dress shop. He was their god. He could do whatever he pleased. And in this manner, in like manner here on the planet called Cybertron, there were 'little ones' who needed to acknowledge his superiority. Doctor Kyle Scott did. He respected, but he didn't always obey. That's why Ptysar punished him in the shop. Of course, Xesnex would not be happy about it. But after all, Ptysar did not kill the good doctor, just shook him up a bit. Ah! It was time to finally feast and make merry/

Steve woke, groggy and emotionally upset, but he could not recall why. Midnight sensed it and wrapped himself about his Interface, saying nothing.

Kayla had ordered breakfast for Parker, but he couldn't eat. He played with his food, frowning. Voodoo stepped in through the doorway and wiggled his fingers at Midnight's Tentchi in greeting.

"Hi." Steve invited without his usual cheerful voice.

"You're not going to throw anything at me, are you, Steve?" Voodoo asked carefully.

Steve gave him a wry smile. "Only if you've decided not to kill me."

"Oh. Well, I'm still considering it."

Steve nodded, forcing himself to smile. "How's Kyle?"

"He won't talk to me."

Steve's blue eyes shot at the Sentinel and blinked. "What did you say to him?"

"Nothing." Voodoo grunted. "He's mad."

"About what?"

"With himself, I think." Voodoo sat on the floor by the doorway and stared down. "He does this, you know. He'll get mad, but won't admit he's mad and he clams up tight." Voodoo shrugged. "I'm used to it."

"Does it hurt?"

"Yes. But there's nothing I can do until he calms down." Voodoo fell silent for a moment. "What happened there, Steve? What went wrong?"

"We were attacked by that entity that's hunted Kyle. It attacked me first. Then . . ." Steve blinked when he realized something he hadn't thought of before. "Then . . . Kyle took a drinking glass and sliced at the creature." Parker's eyes narrowed. "Voodoo, has Kyle said anything about a weakness he might have found in the creature?"

"No. Not to me. He might not have remembered it, either. He was pretty upset and in shock when I found him in that abandoned transport station."

Voodoo looked away from Steve and Parker could tell the memory hurt the Sentinel. He almost lost his Interface there. Tentchi, Steve corrected himself. It's so much more powerful than 'partner'. Voodoo loved Kyle, in spite of their constant bickering. "Voodoo, would you like me to try to talk to Kyle?" He offered.

"I don't know what more you could say that I haven't, Steve. I beg him to talk, but he won't."

Steve thought hard, struggling to recall the event. The corners of his mouth tightened. "He might be blaming himself for what happened. All those people died, you know."

Voodoo said nothing.

"Why don't you just take him home and wait?"

Voodoo finally looked at him.

Steve nodded. "There's nothing else wrong with him, is there, Voodoo?"

"No."

"Take him home. Make him eat something."

Voodoo smiled at Parker who still hadn't touched his breakfast. Steve caught that smile and pointed at the huge robot. "Not a single word." He warned Voodoo. "I'll get it later from Midnight. You just tend to your own Tentchi."

"My what?"

Steve shook his head. "Something I picked up from Chenobis. Now go on. Go take care of Kyle."

Voodoo took to his feet then gave Parker a final glance. Steve poked at his bagel, but still didn't pick it up. "Steve," he called. "Thanks."

Kyle awoke in his own bedroom late the following morning. He found Voodoo sitting against the opposite wall, watching him closely. Kyle frowned.

"What are you mad about?" Voodoo quietly asked.

"Not Mad." Scott muttered.

"Yes you are."

Kyle sighed and rolled over to face the wall. "No I'm not."

"Yes. You are." The huge robot insisted.

Kyle glowered back over his shoulder. "No. I'm not."

Voodoo smiled. "Yes, Kyle. You're mad about something."

Kyle's eyes shot wide, his teeth clenched then he digressed and suppressed his reaction. "I AM NOT MAD."

"Kyle."

Doctor Scott sprang from under the covers, standing on the bed in nothing but his boxers. "OKAY!" he shouted. "I'M MAD! I'M ANGRY. ARE YOU HAPPY NOW?"

Voodoo did not smile. He studied the doctor in solemn silence then repeated: "Kyle." He kept his voice level, soft.

Kyle heavily sighed and leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "Why do you always pick fights with me?" He asked wearily.

"Because, Doctor," Voodoo snarled, "you can never be honest with yourself." Voodoo glared at him, "You always deny the fact that you're angry or upset, or that something annoys you." He threw his arms in the air, "You go right on through life denying the negative side of Humanity."

Kyle couldn't look at him.

Voodoo pierced the doctor, focusing all his attention on his Interface as though he were a sword. But Kyle made no move to snap back. Voodoo found it even more annoying that Kyle refused to shout back. But it was just one of those moods of his. Voodoo continued, his tone dangerously soft, steady. "Anger is a bad thing. But denying it is worse and someone has to take that blinder off you once in a while. Just to remind you . . . you're only Human and you can't be anything less."

Kyle still couldn't look at him. His face finally revealed a burdened emotion he had contained for the past several weeks.

Voodoo felt compassionate for his love. Kyle hurt but could not admit to himself how he felt. And he most likely did not remember, but he and Voodoo had gone through this before. Voodoo cautiously approached the bedside, staring at his friend with a hidden set of optic sensors. "Right now you're angry at yourself because you feel vulnerable. Kyle. . . being vulnerable isn't a crime. But being angry then denying it, is."

Now Voodoo fell silent, knowing Kyle needed time and silence to think. The doctor slid down the wall, sitting on the bed, his eyes kept away from his partner. "I thought I lost Steve. I thought it was my fault. And she said they were going to kill me but found me worthy . . . I don't know what that means, Voodoo." Kyle brought his knees up, his cheeks flushed with guilt.

Voodoo simply remained quiet. Although he had not heard the whole story regarding Kyle's and Steve's visit to Chenobis, he knew what Kyle meant.

"Steve could have died. And he took the risk of coming with me-"

"Well, he was supposed to keep you out of trouble." Voodoo crossed his arms too and seemed a bit indignant.

Kyle slowly looked at him and a smile took its time to cross his face. "Oops."

"Ah-hu. No wonder they keep you at the hospital." Voodoo paused another moment then, "Kyle, do you have the diary?"

"What?"

"The diary. That book that you said D'Chlavic wrote."

Scott's eyes shot wide. "It's, um, Steve has it."

"And when are you going to get something to eat?" Voodoo asked.

"When I get around to it." Kyle brushed. He idly picked at the sheets on his bed, feeling Voodoo's presence press against the link, staring at him mentally as much as physically. It was a tease and Kyle finally smiled again. "In about two minutes." He corrected.

Voodoo left later for a meeting with a construction crew in South Port. He really never said much about his work, except that it was pretty much routine and dull. But Voodoo never really knew what he liked to do. Exploring was boring because of all the rules he had to follow. And Voodoo was not one for following orders very well. He agreed to assist in South Port because all you had to do was yell at demolition teams and tell them where to 'blow the buildings'. That pretty much left Kyle on his own.

Doctor Scott made himself a couple slices of toast and listened to a music tape while he gathered laundry, not really sure what Voodoo did with his laundry. All Kyle knew was that his laundry disappeared three times a week and came back in nice neat little piles for him to put away in his chest of drawers. The dishes also were done frequently and Kyle wondered why Voodoo spent so much time cleaning up after him.

The music ended and Kyle rummaged through other pieces of his vast collection. He found one tape void of any titles save a series of numbers. He shrugged, taking a swallow of vegetable juice and slipped the tape in and waited for a new piece of music to start. Ever since he lost his memory, Kyle spent all his time trying to regain his life. He found old calendars in his desk, other photographs of people he knew he should know. He found magazines and hidden in the wall stood three huge book cases in addition to the two already standing proudly next to his stereo.

**"Sigh**. Uhm . . ."

It was his own voice. Doctor Scott blinked and stared at the stereo as though it had come to life.

"Date . . . Chegnon 36 . . . I think. It might be the 37th, today. I don't remember. More victims of Braintrust's experiments have been found on that alien ship. **Sigh.** Gods I'm tired. Rayan tells me **Yawn** he might have found children in one section. I hope not. All this is making me sick. Voodoo keeps bitching about mine not sleeping . . . but how can anyone sleep with what I've seen? I've diagnosed about fifteen people, four of them suffered massive head trauma from raw electric shock. There was nothing left of one poor fellow's head. sigh Why the hell did I become a doctor?"

Kyle raced over and shut the thing off. Chills raced down his back and he stepped away from the stereo.

_Kyle? What is it? _

Scott blinked, having forgotten Voodoo could 'tune' into his emotions. _A recorded diary._ he answered mentally. He pulled the cassette out of its pocket and stared at it. _I didn't know I made these._

_Yeah. You've got quite a collection of them. _

Scott gazed at the rest of the tapes and discs and crystal memory chips littering the floor and shelves. _Why didn't I put this one back? _

_Whaddya mean? _

_It was left with the rest of my music . . . do I have others?_ he felt Voodoo laugh and frowned.

_You should look for the more recent stuff. You've got one in there about Steve- _

_You've listened to them? _

_Hello!_ Voodoo retaliated, _Most of them you're talking to me! I AM your Interface, remember?_

Kyle didn't answer. He slowly sat down, staring at the tape in his hands. Confusion slipped its way inadvertently down their link. Why did he become a doctor? How many horror stories had he mentioned in this collection? Kyle's eyes closed when Voodoo brushed his presence against the link, kindly wrapping himself around his partner.

**Tentchi**. Kyle reminded himself. Because Voodoo was inside him, all the time. It didn't matter where he was, who he was with. Voodoo was there, too. Voodoo was a warrior. Scott was a doctor. What a contrast!

_But you fight with me._ Voodoo answered softly.

Kyle tossed the tape onto his new glass table and sat back, crossing his arms. _How? How could I kill one person and try to save another person's life? Isn't that a bit hypocritical?_

Then why did he become a doctor to begin with? He remembered the armor Parker forced him to wear on Chenobis . . . a doctor wearing battle armor? Wasn't that a bit odd? First Aid was a pacifist, through and through. He wouldn't hurt an insect, if any survived on Cybertron. But then why was Doctor Scott himself not in the same position?

_You never saw it that way. We all had to fight to survive. _

Kyle pouted. _But, I'm a doctor, aren't I? _

_It's not that simple, Kyle. It never has been. _

_But . . . how . . . _

flashes of events passed through his mind. Voodoo sent him images of memories; battlefields and destroyed fortress-cities. An entire population of people, killed by the Seekers. One battle after another, after another, and another. All in the name of survival. Braintrust's experiments had lost all means of sanity. One species after another were 'collected' and systematically terminated as the insane Seeker sought a forced Interface.

Kyle curled up on the couch, feeling the pains of old anger rising from his partner. The death of Thon Roque, the death of allies and friends . . . Midnight. Kyle rested his head against the back of the couch, exhausted.

Voodoo stopped sending memories, realizing he was endangering his friend with emotional overload. He wrapped his mind around Kyle and softly bade him to just sleep it off.

Kyle woke very early the following morning. Someone clattered about in the kitchen, running water then shutting it off. A couple of plates snapped against each other and Kyle rolled over in bed, groaning. He really should be up, anyway.

"Voodoo," he called. "Don't worry about the dishes. I'll do them." He frowned. "I should do them, anyway. I made the mess." He muttered.

No response. But the puttering in the kitchen continued and Kyle moaned again and forced himself out of bed. He ruffled his white-blonde hair and stumbled into the livingroom in his boxers. "Voodoo, you don't need to clean up after me. I'll get around to it."

"Most certainly not!" Came an unfamiliar feminine voice.

Kyle about jumped out of his skin. He swallowed air and when an unfamiliar figure stepped out from behind the wall, Kyle grabbed a pillow off his couch and tried to hide behind it. "I-I thought you were my-Voodoo." He stammered.

"Hmph. That's an insult, if I ever heard one!"

Kyle's eyes narrowed, trying to make out a female's features through the inadequate light. "Who are you? What are you doing here?"

The female with light green skin and black hair looked very indignant. "Your housekeeper!" She snapped. "I am most certainly not that overbearing braggart Interface of yours, Doctor Scott! He couldn't clean his own hands unless someone gave him clear simple instructions!"

Kyle scratched the back of his neck. "I have a housekeeper?"

"Who do you think has been picking up after you? Washing your laundry? Wiping down counter tops and putting your tapes back after you insist on taking them down?"

"I-I-I'm sorry. I wasn't even aware . . ."

She glared at him. "Haven't even been out of the hospital more than a month and already you forget me. Maybe you'd prefer a better maid!"

"No!" Kyle objected. "No! I just . . . forgot." He stared at her, bewildered.

Her hard angry face softened and she leaned against the counter. "Come and sit down, Doctor. I'll make you some breakfast." She turned away and started to make coffee.

Sheepishly, Kyle turned back to his room and slipped on a pair of jeans. He sat at the table, very confused and guilty. She set the coffee in front of him then a bowl of oatmeal and another bowl of sliced pears. She sat opposite of him, the same meal in front of her. She smiled and gestured her hands, waving them from the sides of her head to the meal before her as though praying.

Kyle watched silently, not sure how to proceed.

She eyed him, then smiled and sipped her coffee. "I hope the coffee is alright. You ran out yesterday and I had to order more. I didn't remember the brand . . ."

Kyle sipped it and gave her a smile. "It's just fine." he accepted. "Thank you."

She batted dark eyes at him, long eyelashes brushing the air. "Oma." She answered. "My name is Oma, Doctor."

Kyle pressed his lips, frustrated that his mind still would not recall much of anything. He stirred the cereal and took a spoonful.

She did the same and mixed her fruit in with it. "I'm sorry for blowing out like that. You don't seem to acknowledge much of anything lately. I thought you were just preoccupied."

Kyle shook his head. "I thought Voodoo was doing it. He's spent many nights here."

She forced a smile. "Well, I come in extra early in the morning since I have three other places to take care of."

He nodded in acknowledgment.

She studied him a long moment, spooning her cereal. "You really don't remember me, do you, Kyle?"

His dark brown eyes scrutinized her, sorry for not having any words to say. Kyle swallowed hard and took another sip of his coffee. "I seem to be missing a whole life, lately, Oma. I'm sorry."

She ruefully smiled. "You're responsible for mine still being in this life, you know."

He gaped at her.

"That wasn't more than eight months ago. My son . . ." she gulped. "I had to drag him into the emergency late one evening. He suffered a broken arm and nearly lost an eye." She looked away with a pain-filled face.

Kyle gave her a sympathetic smile. "You don't have to tell me, Oma." He said gently, "It's okay."

She wiped her tear, shook her head. "My husband . . . thought he was man enough to 'train' Shaun and me . . ." Her eyes fell to her lap. "I took Shaun in for treatment. I didn't have any money. I told them I didn't need any help, though I was bleeding badly. Elthon come storming into the entrance as I was leaving. I was going to come back later and pick Shaun up. He hit me. And you came in . . ." now she faced him, her eyes sparkled. " . . . It's not often I come across a doctor who's also a good shot. Elthon was going to hit me again and you pushed him away and he jumped for you and you pulled a gun on him . . . gods, I never saw him look so mad. I never saw anyone pull a gun as fast as you did, either."

"I pulled a gun on someone in the hospital?" Kyle whispered, wondering what the heck possessed him to do that.

Oma nodded. "It was a good thing. He was ready to kill you for gettin' in his way. I fainted, though. That nurse of yours . . . Kayla . . . she told me you stunned him because he ran for you."

Kyle struggled, but failed to remember any of it. Obviously it happened because here Oma was. And apparently he had hired her as a housekeeper so that she would have some means of personal income. And that too gave him the answer to his question. His ability to fight was indeed just as important as his ability to heal. Freedom fighter, he thought.

"Better eat your oatmeal, Doctor. It'll get cold." She softly admonished.

Kyle slightly startled at the voice, but grateful nonetheless. "Yes, Ma'am." He answered politely.

Kyle dressed and took a trip to Medbay where Steve still resided. At least Scott could take heart Doctor Gatchel was not the kind to lower himself to work as early as five-thirty. Three nurses eagerly greeted Kyle with bright faces and giggles as he stepped onto the floor. They asked when he was going to come back on a regular basis. Sadly, Kyle did not know himself. Dilah, a Game refugee, gave him as broad a smile as her purple-spotted lips permitted. "Best make it soon, Doctor Scott." She warned teasingly. "Some of the girls are already plotting your abduction."

Kyle smiled sheepishly. "I'll bet." He answered modestly. "Is Parker still here? Or did he manage to talk Midnight into taking him home?"

"Noo!" Gayle declared with her British accent. "Midnight knew t'would tick Steve off if he didna' sign him out early. He's still here."

Kyle barely suppressed a laugh. Can you give me a blank folder and stuff it with useless paper?"

The nurses glanced at each other. "Why?" Came the question.

"I owe him a prank."

They smiled knowingly and managed to scrounge one together, adding several bogus billing slips to the 'gut' of the folder and falsified other papers. Kyle took that and made his way down the haunted corridor. It seemed odd to walk though Medbay in such silence and the doctor found he missed his work very much.

He passed an elderly man slowly walking with his IV machine. The poor man apparently had insomnia. Kyle stopped abruptly and turned to the man. "How is everything for you today?" He greeted cheerfully.

"Might be better if I could sleep." The old man answered. "Keep having dreams, images that make sense, but not something I'd ever seen."

Kyle stared at him compassionately and read the man's name at the top of the IV. He would look into it in a moment. "Perhaps I could have someone give you something to help you sleep." He offered.

The old man waved a hand down. "Forget it, Doc. I'd rather not sleep."

Kyle nodded, but made it a point to check up on him later anyway. He proceeded to Parker's room and peeked in carefully. The light was on, but Steve often slept through anything. This time Kyle found his friend awake, flipping through TV channels.

Parker gave him a second glance before realizing who his visitor was. He gave Kyle a rueful smile and switched the TV off. "Look who decides to come down from his lofty place to visit me."

Kyle wordlessly handed Steve the folder.

Steve automatically assumed it was work. He narrowed his eyes at Kyle, took the folder and set it on his tray. "You are a cruel and unusual person, Kyle Scott." He pouted. "I thought you were coming to cheer an old friend."

"Old friends deserve only the best." Kyle quipped. He smiled and aimed for Steve's chart.

"DON'T EVEN TOUCH THAT!" Steve growled. "I'll break your hand!"

"My goodness!" Kyle mocked. "The nurses were right! You are in a mood!" He watched, standing on the brink of laughing. "Well, cheer up, Steve. I'm sure when Gatchel remembers he works this ward, he might consider releasing you today."

Parker's eyes narrowed. "Why are you so cheerful?"

Kyle grinned, his dark brown eyes sparkled. "I have a housekeeper."

Parker stared at him suspiciously. Then he blinked. "No one told you . . . you mean after all this time you didn't realize . . ."

"Voodoo never said anything about Oma. I thought he was responsible for keeping the place clean."

Parker broke out laughing. "No!" He cried. "Stop!" His blue eyes fell on Kyle again. "You really have lost it, Scott! Voodoo! Doing laundry!" And he broke out laughing again.

Kyle grinned, looking rather bashful. But he took it in stride. Then he remembered the real reason for the visit: "The book, Steve. Do you have it?"

Steve calmed down and drew a deep breath. The smile did not fade. "No. I gave it to Jill."

Kyle nodded. "Okay. I'll check in on you later, Sunshine." he teased.

Steve swept up the folder. "And take this with you!" He snapped.

"Na-hu." Kyle objected. "That's your present. You get to keep it." And he stepped out the room, knowing Steve would set it aside and pout in front of the TV for another hour before examining the 'gift'.

The large clock in the cafeteria struck six A.M. More and more Medbay staff passed through the cafeteria doors to sweep up donuts, coffee and other early morning wake-me-ups. Kyle knew Jill would be here, even this early in the day. And sure enough, there she sat, a cup of coffee steaming in front of her, an electronic notepad on one side, a translation/dictionary on the other side and in front of her sat the old, well-used diary of Beth D'Chlavic. Jill's hair, usually bound back for medical reasons, now hung loosely about her shoulders. A set of headphones hugged her ears and she softly hummed as she read the diary and scribbled a note. She tucked her arms under the table and read more, unaware of Kyle's gaze.

Kyle smiled, reached over and removed her cup of coffee.

Jill's eyes shot crossly at him, "Hey-" she protested, but she broke off, seeing who was teasing her and her face turned up in a smile. "Kyle!"

Doctor Scott smiled kindly at her and replaced the coffee as he sat across the table. "Must be very interesting material for you to want to shut the world out, Jill." He pointed to the headset.

She turned it off and flipped through the pages. "Kyle, this is really great stuff. The woman should have been a writer. Listen to this: 'Pleba'-that's their seventh month-'17, 684794. The expedition goes well. We were given a larger grant than we originally hoped. Whyler is really excited and hopes I can take he and the kids along for the summer. I hope so, too. The kids would love it. The site is gorgeous. It sits right by the ocean side and all night long we sit at the fire and listen to the waves as they slam against the steadfast rocks below us. We never see any stars, but with the sound of the sea and all the fresh fish, who could ask for anything better?'" Jill smiled at Kyle, a kind of wishfulness crossed her face. "I wish I could have met her."

Kyle's smile died a little. What he remembered of Beth D'Chlavic was nothing of the same woman who wrote the journal. "Me too." He confessed.

Jill leaned forward, closing the book over her hand. "Kyle, this woman's work was amazing. Just by herself she had uncovered forty-three historical sites and found three cities. But that's not the best work she had come across. Are you ready for this? Let me find it here. . ."

Jill turned to a place already marked by note paper. "Ready?"

Kyle mutely nodded. "'I was right. I was damned right. I argued with Rychal about the strange oil-and-dirt mixture we found at the twenty-ninth strata. He kept insisting it was just plant oil. But I insisted on digging and sure enough, I was right. It was manufactured oil-and we found the space ship!"

Kyle lost his breath. "They found a space ship?"

"Apparently it was in the very same vicinity as the city they were currently uncovering by the coast. I haven't gotten much further-Chenobian isn't easy to translate, you know."

"Jill!" Kyle whispered. "What does that mean? How could that fit into their history?"

McKennan shook her head. "Haven't gotten that far yet, Kyle."

"Good gawd!"

Jill and Kyle looked to the entrance as a slender, tall half-Human/half alien woman entered the cafeteria. A lump of books burdened her arms and she practically dropped them on the table. "Oh good gawd!" She repeated, running her fingers through short thick black hair. She practically danced to Kyle's side and embraced him as tightly as her slight frame permitted.

Kyle's bewildered expression moved from the girl to Jill.

Jill smiled sadly. "Uhm, I'm sorry. I know no one had said anything . . ."

"ForawhilethereIthoughthewasdead or something worse buthereheisnow and Icanfinishmypapers!" Her squeaky voice was not pleasant.

Kyle stared at Jill, waiting silently for an explanation.

Jill tried not to laugh. "Uhm . . . Lelel, Doctor Scott has trauma-induced amnesia. He may not remember you."

Kyle stared at the tall girl but could not tell whether or not she was human. Her body said she had to be somewhere in her older teens, early twenties. Her voice said early teens. He gazed back at Jill, confused.

"Awe." Lelel sat beside him and crossed her thin legs. Her miniskirt didn't seem to accommodate her position very well. "Well, wecanfixthat, can't we, Doctor Scott? Itwon't belongbeforeyou'llrememberme. Iwaswritingapaperbased ontheInterfacephenomenonand Iaskedyoutohelpmeout, causeIknowyouhadwrittenvolumesofmaterial. ButIreally don'thavetimetogothroughallthatstuffandItalkedyouintogivingmethegistofitall. I brought my stuff with me!" She jumped to her feet while Kyle still tried to untangle the sudden mass of information she rattled. She sat next to Jill and produced a thin notepad. Lelel concentrated hard, jotting down a date and time then stared expectingly at Kyle.

Kyle's face remained a complete blank. _Not her again! _Voodoo's thoughts tumbled through the link. _She's a pain in the afterburners!_

"Now," Lelel batted her eyes, half hidden behind a set of glasses. "I've done my report, but there's something else I was wondering. What's it like . . . I mean, to be so small and to be connected to someone who's so huge . . . so much bigger than you? I mean, aren't you afraid of arguing with them? Don't they frighten you?"

Kyle lightly smiled when Voodoo groaned. "Lelel, how long have you been on Cybertron?"

"Uhm .. . about most of my life. About twenty-three years."

"Have you ever heard any newscasts of Humanoids accidentally getting stepped on by a Transformer?"

She batted her eyes again. "No."

"That's your answer."

"I don't get it."

Voodoo laughed.

Kyle remained cool and patient. "Their awareness prevents them from harming us, Lelel. They are every bit as much aware of us as they are of each other."

_Moreso._ Voodoo sent a powerful warm embrace that caused Kyle to close his eyes a moment, lapsing into the link. For a moment, Doctor Scott thought he was going to go right to sleep. It was as though he were breathing Voodoo's very presence. But he managed to pull himself out of it and found Lelel staring. Jill already put her nose back in the journal, her music in her ears.

"Does that hurt?" Lelel asked carefully.

"What?"

"The Link. When they link up with you, I mean."

Kyle stared at her. He didn't know what to tell her, or how to say it, what little he could say. Doctor Scott shook his head. No one could really understand. "Lelel," he said gently but firmly, "I suggest you take a good hard look at the people you're writing about. The Community is a species all their own. And what is considered good and beautiful and sacred to us, will be misunderstood, despised and regarded sacrilegious to the outside world." Kyle cast his gaze on Jill as she reached for her coffee and sipped it. She shook her head and reached for her electronic translator.

Puzzled, Lelel stared at Doctor Scott, then at Jill. She covered her face then bit her lip, thinking over Kyle's words, her dark eyes seeming to turn inward. The young lady closed her notepad and prepared to excuse herself.

"Hey!" A masculine voice sounded from behind Kyle. Nick's cheerful face came into full view and Kyle gave him a wry smile. The tech sat on the bench next to him and held up a right arm, the bandaged wound was bound a bit too tightly. "I get a scratch and Tornado sends me straight to Medbay. Do not pass 'Go', do not collect two-hundred dollars. It's just a scratch."

"And all the nurses just fussed over you." Kyle added.

"Well, sorta." Nick shrugged. "They sent me straight to you and said I had to have your okay to leave."

"They did not." Kyle argued.

"Yeah they did." The tentchi 'Techno-wizard' insisted. "Besides, unless I get yours or Doc Gatchel's blessing, Tornado will assume I've escaped the hospital and he'll bring me right back here."

Kyle eyed him, the smile not fading. "Be grateful it's Tornado you're dealing with and not Midnight."

Nick shrugged and batted his beautiful grey eyes. It was then that Kyle realized Nick was wearing his armor.

"What have you been up to, anyway?" Doctor Scott asked.

"Nothin." Nick's face turned bashful. Obviously it was something he wasn't supposed to do.

"Reconstruction in sector B-14." Jill tattled. She did not meet either of the men's gaze.

Kyle shot a parental look at Nick. "Well, I don't know what B-14 is, but you should be leaving demolition to the Dinobots!"

"It was something to do." Nick replied shyly.

Kyle blinked. "Shan's going to kill you."

Nick drew a deep breath and stretched. "Yup. She's already struck up the bar-B-Q."

Kyle shook his head. "Well, let me see your arm." He examined the dressing on Nick's right forearm and shook his head again. "Norma's work. I keep telling her she doesn't need to wrap tightly." He proceeded to undo the tape while Jill and Nick exchanged a knowing smile. Kyle lifted the dressing and reset it over the open gash. It wasn't a terribly bad cut, but deep enough to make the doctor cringe a little. He rewrapped the tape then gazed at Nick's eyes in a silent question.

Nick smiled. "Thanks, Doc. How's V?"

Kyle smirked at Voodoo's nick name. "V is doing just fine, Nick. Thank you. Now get out of here before I have you submit to a physical examination."

"Kyle." Jill called softly. "I-I think I should take this book downstairs." Kyle and Nick stared at her. She blinked her soft brown eyes once. "I don't want anyone else to hear this."

"Well, that counts me out." Nick jumped to his feet. But Kyle grabbed his hand.

"Come with us, Nick." He invited. "You always liked tales of mystery and suspense."

Nick thought it over briefly. He would still be staying at Medbay and out trouble. "Mmmm . . . okay." He accepted.

'Downstairs' meant the resource center. Half that part of Medbay curved outward and kissed the garden sitting just outside. Huge picture windows allowed visitors full view of the very garden Kyle and Steve visited a few weeks ago. The dome above hummed as the sprinkler system rotated and whirled in a showering frenzy. The Resource Center consisted of several private conference rooms and three huge libraries not open to the public. A cafeteria stood at the front end of 'Downstairs' and restrooms were conveniently located down each corridor. The Resource Center, designed for both Humans and Robots, stayed open all hours of the day and night (such as they were on Cybertron) and visitors were required to possess at least a Level Three clearance to enter the libraries.

Jill and Kyle both spent a great deal of time here, seeking help on alien physiology, adding to the library through experience, or just to get away from the insanity of the upper floors.

Jill led her two friends to her favorite conference room. Fine wood panels lined three-quarters of the walls here, the remaining wall was all glass and overlooked the garden. An ancient battle axe hung above a series of short bookcases and a huge stereo system. The room came complete with a large table, coffee and other condiments were available in the cupboards and a TV and video system sat at one corner of the room. A holoprojector sat in the center of the conference table, its controls next to a nearby chair.

The three entered the room just as Kayla turned, startled to see them. She cringed with a smile and peeled off a set of huge headphones. "Hi." She greeted, tousling her dark brown hair. Kayla tucked her hair behind her horns and flushed.

"Hi, Kayla." Scott quietly greeted. He and Jill took a place at the table while Nick went for the cupboard and started a pot of coffee and scrounged for munchies.

"Whatchya guys up to?" Their friend asked.

"I've been reading Beth D'Chlavic's journal since last night." Jill swiftly explained. "I just came across a few things I thought Kyle might want to hear."

"Oh." Kayla's eyes darted to the door. 'Well, did you want me to leave?"

"No." Jill answered simply. "It's not top-secret. I just didn't want to broadcast it across the hospital, that's all." She gazed thankfully at Nick as he set a fresh cup of coffee in front of her. He silently pointed to Kyle's would-be cup and raised a brow at Kayla.

Kayla nodded, accepting his offer.

Jill settled in her chair and opened the book, then turned to Kayla, hoping she would sit down.

Kayla read the unspoken question in her friend's eyes and sat at the end of the table, Nick followed suit after another moment.

"First of all," Jill started in, "the government gave Beth and her team all the financial support they needed. Then the museum became seriously involved. Then came the first accident."

Kyle waited then decided to take the first sip of coffee. He cringed inwardly, displaying no emotion. Distantly he could feel Voodoo curse about something. He inquired, using nothing more than his presence and received a resolute: _I'M FINE!_ Doctor Scott blinked and left his friend alone.

Jill continued. "There wasn't supposed to be any extra fuel tanks left in any of the cars. According to Beth, they had emptied all the vehicles the night before and double-checked their supplies. Then three nights later, after the camp was set, one of the vehicles somehow got out of lock and hit one of the group's assistants. He would have been okay, had not the vehicle suddenly blown up."

"Sabotage?" Kayla asked.

"Beth thought so." Jill pulled out three sheets of loose-leaf paper and handed them to Kyle. "You'll find that government contract, a letter from Whyler and a drawing."

Kyle unfolded the first blue paper, amused at its length. Certain fees and stipulations described exactly what the government was looking for, what they were willing to pay and what benefits would be provided in exchange for-Kyle looked up "Anything concerning ancient crystal technology?"

Jill nodded. "I looked that up, just this morning. Apparently the Chenobians have lost a great deal of their own technology. Every so often a terrible world-wide plaque or disaster takes place that wipes out their scientific communities."

Kyle's brows furred, "What?"

"It's really, really bizarre. The main reason Beth was able to get good government funding is because Chenobians are searching for their past. They had technologies at one point that rivaled the Quintessons. But it doesn't exist anymore because some kind of 'red plaque' spread and killed millions of people. That was three centuries ago and these people are still recovering."

Nick noisily sipped his coffee and sunk his teeth into a powdered donut. "What's this 'crystallized tech' stuff supposed to be?"

"Your guess is as good as mine." Jill shrugged.

Nick leaned back in his chair, his grey eyes already considering the possibilities of using crystals.

Kyle opened the second piece of paper, the drawing. He turned it one way, then the other, unable to ascertain its meaning. "I've seen this before." He mumbled.

Jill's brows slid together. "Where?"

"I don't know. I just remember seeing it somewhere."

"On Chenobis?" Kayla asked. She leaned forward on the table and tapped its surface with her taloned finger.

Kyle thought hard. His gaze fell distant as he struggled hard to recall where he had seen it. It was a man . . . holding a sword. He laughed as he parried and aimed, slicing the air. Kyle shook his head. "It must have been a dream or something-his memory shot him with a picture depicting someone's death. Their blood slammed against a wall and there the mark stayed. Someone screamed.

Kyle folded the paper back, his mind now confused between a dream and reality. "It's nothing." He added swiftly. He knew the others stared hard, expecting some rational explanation. But he could not even give one to himself. Kyle quickly swept up the last piece of paper and expected the letter from Whylar. Instead, the paper, a letter from some museum, had ink marks all over it. PTYSAR IS HERE, it said. PTYSAR IS HERE, FOR ME. TELL WHYLER I LOVE HIM AND THE KIDS AND THAT THEY SHOULD JUST MOVE ON. MOVE ON, BABY. MOVE ON.

Kyle dropped the wrinkled sheet of paper, his frame frozen in fear.

The door opened and a pair of booted feet stomped in. Doctor Scott smiled, knowing that walk pattern. A folder stuffed with bogus bills and paper work slammed on the table next to him. "Well!" He greeted Steve without looking at him. "Isn't it my favorite patient coming to grace us with his presence!" Kyle looked up and connected to Steve's icy glare.

Steve shot his left brow up. "That's not funny." He growled.

Nick laughed and drained his coffee cup. "Careful, Steve, Kyle already threatened to send me in for physical exam this morning. More coffee, Doc?"

"Is that what you're calling it?" Kyle returned.

"What's this?" Steve dragged out a chair and sat next to Kyle. He swept up the paper Kyle dropped and winked at Jill. "Are you starting to scribble again, Kyle?"

"Professionals never scribble, Steve." Kyle corrected. "We merely make our mark on the paper."

"Uh-huh." He read the paper, glanced at Kyle and read it again. "Who's . . . how you pronounce that name?"

"The P-T is pronounced like a 'T', Steve." Jill answered. "Ty-sar. And how are you able to read Chenobian?"

Steve's eyes went wide. He shrugged. "I didn't know it was Chenobian . . . it looks Akhrian, or one of the major languages to me."

Everyone stared at him. He shrugged as Jill flipped through the journal and randomly picked a page. "Read this." She slid the book across the table and Steve picked it up.

"Mordi 17. We've broken through. There's furniture and an alter, bowls, vases and jewelry. We found the alter is a false alter with a secret door just behind it. We open that in two days after taking inventory." His eyes met Jill's, seeking an approval and an answer.

"That's impossible." Jill's face fell blank. "It's taken me all morning just to translate what I have read. Kyle, I know, picks things up ten times faster than me. He was reading Chenobian before he and Voodoo came back. But . . . you're seeing it as Akhrian Script?"

"Yes." Steve insisted. "Here," he took the book again and flipped another page: "Dead. We found three dead cats in the alter and a beautiful dark blue glass jar. How it was made is unclear. There are symbols all around the jar painted in red. I really want to take it home." Steve handed the book back to a breathless Jill.

"Kyle," Jill drew a deep breath. "Did you or Steve encounter anything strange before you were attacked in the restaurant on Chenobis?"

Kyle gave her a second look. His eyes went wide with shock and he jumped from the table.

"What?" Jill asked, bewildered. "What did I say?"

Steve jumped to his feet too, pointing at the wall behind Jill. "I don't think it's you, Jill!"

She and Kayla turned simultaneously as the wall behind them bled and a watery, red creature oozed past the metal. A dog's head phased through the wall and snarled at Kayla. Kyle grabbed her arm and practically dragged her across the room, out the door and down the hallway. The others followed them closely as the dog-beast's watery paws slapped and stamped the metal floor of the hall. It barked once and Steve winced in pain, holding his ears.

"Keep going!" Parker ordered.

Kyle dragged Kayla through the Spherical Library where three-quarters of most rooms were encased in glass extending into Medbay's garden section. Here the glass doors were circular and closed partly over one another. Kyle brought Kayla through the section and waited while their friends came through and he closed that part of the corridor.

The dog-beast, not seeing the glass doors roll between it and its targets, slammed the glass with a terrible thud. Kayla startled, fingers touching her lips. The creature closely eyed the doors and walls, finding no point of access to its prey.

"What is that thing?" Jill demanded, her eyes wide with terror.

"I don't know." Steve huffed. His wounded shoulder had stolen more energy than what he could produce in a sprint. He watched as the creature pawed at the glass, pawing, he noticed, in Kayla's direction. Kyle sighed in relief, but his dark eyes remained locked on their attacker.

The beast snapped its head left. Its watery, bloodied eyes caught Kyle in a frightful, iron-gripped gaze.

Frost shot through Doctor Scott. He could not so much as draw another breath. Every shred of strength drained from him at such a terrible speed that it left him once again in shock. And it wasn't until the dog-beast looked elsewhere that Kyle finally crumbled to the floor.

"Kyle!" Kayla cried. She fell to her knees, automatically checking his pulse. Her hands trembled over his frozen skin.

Nick drew his weapon from subspace but Steve slapped his hand down. "No!" He shouted. "You'll break the glass and give that thing access. We need to get Kyle back upstairs."

"No!" Kayla's dark eyes shot him. "The 3-D library is just two doors down. It has a medical kit."

Steve turned to Jill who nodded in agreement. He wove his way to Kyle and tried to half-lift him but Nick nudged him.

"I got him, Steve." He said softly. Nick gently lifted Scott off the floor, Kayla following closely. She glanced once over her shoulder at the beast, knowing full well it punished Kyle for saving her.

The library Kayla described basically was a glass dome overlooking the garden. To one side, luxuriant plants grew at their own will, creating a small forest. To the other side, a pond bubbled from a small rushing waterfall. A walkway rounded that and disappeared between tall trees and shrub. Jill locked the door as they entered and Nick gently laid Kyle on the couch. He withdrew, allowing Kayla room to work.

Jill approached, ready to help. Her grey eyes met Kayla's and she blinked.

"He's breathing." Kayla reported. "I'm getting a pulse. I just don't know what that thing did to him."

Jill silently handed Steve the journal and opened a panel in a nearby metal cabinet and withdrew a large med kit. Steve sat uneasily in a deep-cushioned chair. He stripped off the afghan draped over the topside and tossed it aside. He idly nosed through the book, waiting while the two ladies rummaged through the box and Kayla found a hand scanner. Steve felt awful. They really had no idea what they were up against, if there was anything that could be done.

_Steve, what's wrong?_ Midnight came through. _I was just told Voodoo nearly passed out. _

_Kyle was attacked._ Parker answered simply.

_What? Where? _

_Here at Medlab. _

_Gods. How is he? _

_Kayla says he's breathing. They're checking him now._ Midnight didn't say anything more. Parker solemnly kept flipping through the pages of the book until his blue eyes stumbled over the phrase "Keepers of the alter" and a small drawing depicting a pair of dogs. Steve sat up and paid a little more attention. He back tracked about two pages and started reading. "Jill." He called.

The girl's fine white hair flowed as she turned to him, her face set in deep concern for her friend. She said nothing.

Parker stood, reading word-for-word. "I call them the Watchers. We found their statues in the alter itself after lifting the stone slab. They're ugly, if you ask me. The two dogs have empty eye sockets and their stomachs have been carved out. I think there must be a significance there. The freakiest part of the alter find is the skin scroll tucked away in the little ceramic box. I know guessing is a bad thing in this business, but the ink used in the scroll is actually blood and my guess is that this was a contract. The word 'Zhagk' in the ancient language means 'demon'. Could this be a contract with a demon? If so, that would explain the Keepers of the alter and the One they were protecting. He must have been a prince or a king at one point."

"Seeking prey." Kyle weakly slurred.

"Ssshhhh." Kayla laid a finger across his lips.

Kyle's weary eyes turned to her and he tried to smile without success. "I'm cold, Kayla." He moaned softly. She swept the afghan up from the floor and gently laid it over Kyle as he fell back to sleep.

Nick stared through the glass wall to the garden outside. He turned to Steve, his eyes steeled in thought. "That thing that attacked us must be one of the Keepers then. Don't you think?"

"This is all a guess." Parker stood and tossed the book carelessly on the table. "Conjecture. For all we know, D'Chlavic might have just lost her mind."

"She thought she had lost her mind." Jill pointed to the journal. "She couldn't believe what was killing her and because of her disbelief, she died. Kyle seems to know, or at least accept what he thinks is true."

Steve fell silent, staring at the worn and tattered book. He suspected they would have to go back to Chenobis. But no one would hear of it; not Voodoo, not Mid, not Kyle. "What do we do about it, then?" He finally asked.

Kayla and Jill merely exchanged a weary glance.

Kyle half-woke later, uncertain of the time or day. Dim lights greeted his eyes, making it hard to see. But telling by the position of his body, someone with over-sized hands held him. They, or rather he gently lowered Kyle into a bed and snugly covered him with heavy blankets. Kyle stared at one side of the room, finding himself in his own bed in his own quarters. The darkness revealed only vague shapes and no sounds. Drained of all possible energy, Kyle didn't even have the strength to lift himself up for a better view of his surroundings. He adjusted his right hand so that it lay over his chest and his mind passed back into darkness.

Voodoo waited a moment after, scanning and linking to make sure Kyle was comfortable. Satisfied, he lay on the floor and drifted into recharge.

Kyle's eyes finally opened as Oma drew back the metal plates covering a huge set of windows. Kyle wasn't even aware that he had windows in his room. The light outside seemed a little brighter than the usual darkness covering Cybertron. More city lights, and a great deal more aerial activity greeted his otherwise dead senses.

Her eyes met his and her face brightened. "Good morning, Doctor Scott!" She greeted. "How are you today?"

Enough strength had returned to Kyle so that he was able to move, albeit slowly. "Exhausted." he answered quietly. "What time is it, Oma?"

"Eleven-thirty, Standard time."

Kyle's face turned puzzled. "Don't I have an appointment today?"

"That was yesterday, and they already canceled." Oma stood before him, her face a mask of concentrated patience.

Kyle had to think that over carefully. The appointment wasn't for another day. But if it were yesterday then - "I've slept for two days?"

"Yes, Doctor."

Kyle glanced at the floor and he could have sworn he wasn't the only occupant in the room earlier. "Where's Voodoo?"

"Had to leave bright and early this morning. There's a new section they have to tear down in order to reach some new level or other. I didn't catch the whole thing. You should try to talk to him."

"Oh, yeah." Kyle answered softly. But when he did, he was met with a shield. He frowned. "Guess he's busy right now."

"Well, come on into the kitchen and I'll fix you something to eat."

Kyle really wasn't hungry, but he complied anyway. He slowly undid the blankets around him and the cold hit him like a wave. He shuddered and rummaged through his dresser. Kyle took his time reaching the kitchen. Oma had already prepared something simple and added coffee to it a moment later. He waited until she joined him. She unfolded a towel and sipped a small glass of juice. Kyle silently dipped his spoon in a bowel of hot, fine white cereal, struggling to recall what it was.

The moments passed on in terrible silence. Kyle really didn't want to be out of bed. The idea of finding a small dark corner and hide for the rest of the day appealed to him and he considered just staying home away from everyone. He sipped his coffee and his eyes darted round the little place (and wondered why he lived in such a small place). Eight plaques declaring doctorates degrees from other universities hung from the wall in the kitchen. The painting Voodoo gave him hung just to his left. Photographs of people he knew, or was supposed to know decorated his computer and the top of his stereo system.

They were people he was sworn, as a doctor, to care for.

Depression settled over him. He suddenly remembered what led to this, why he slept two days straight.

Oma was asked to keep a close eye on him, to report to Medbay should anything odd happen, or if Scott tried anything 'stupid'. She considered calling them to let them know of Doctor Scott's somber mood. It wasn't something she was accustomed to. Kyle had always been a cheerful, up-beat individual, looking forward to his work. The silence in the house was killing her. She respected Scott enough to be patient. But when Kyle started to just sit and stir the cereal, she laid a hand on his right arm, taking note of the messy, bloodied bandage. "Kyle," she whispered softly.

He stared at her, his eyes betraying a sense of uncertainty. He forced a smile, realizing what he was doing and ate a little. She said nothing more, but scrutinized his moves.

The soft cereal tasted sweet and buttery. But it did nothing to lift his mood. By about the third spoonful, Kyle had made his decision. Somehow, he suspected Oma was given orders to keep an eye on him. Any hint that he might do something 'stupid,' might be phoned either to Medbay or, worse yet, directly to Steve.

Voodoo had been trying to talk to Kyle all morning. But Kyle kept a shield between them, apparently in a mood. The Sentinel zipped across a block of ruins in the South Continent, relaying his visuals to the wrecking crews and scanned for power leaks or other dangerous situations wrecking crews had to be aware of before stepping onto the ground.

He found a leveled area, transformed and landed hard. Kyle was not in the mood to talk, obviously pouting over the incident at Medbay. What a pain in the turbines!

Voodoo forced his sensor inputs to relax. The harder he tried to contact Kyle, the more pain the shield gave him. What the hell was wrong with Kyle? He should know better than to do this! Jerk!

Then the word 'Chenobis' came through somehow. Voodoo concentrated on it, trying to trace the thought through whatever part of the link was not blocked.

But it was all he could get. The corners of Voodoo's lip components tightened in a resolute vexation. And unfortunately, he was too far away to immediately do anything about it.

He was going to kill his Interface.

Steve ran another lap around the hydroponics' park. He forced himself to sprint up the hill, swing lightly on the tree's lowest branch and dropped. He paused to catch his breath, gently rubbing his injured shoulder. He ran down the hill and slowed his pace.

_Steve! _

Mid's voice was so sudden, Parker slid in his tracks and flinched. He had to wait a minute to regain his balance and remembered he had stopped breathing. He coughed and bent over, trying to catch his breath.

_I'm sorry._ Mid added sadly.

Parker merely rolled his eyes, but listened in.

_Voodoo just contacted me. He said Kyle has refused to talk to him all morning and he's too far away to get to Kyle at the moment. Would you look in on him? _

Steve blinked, wondering what was going through Kyle's head. Then a possibility hit him. I'm there. he answered simply.

Kyle double checked his armor. Decided this time he would be a little less conspicuous; he wore his long leather trench coat over it accompanied by a dark grey fedora hat. Oma had finally left a couple of hours ago, thinking Kyle was resigning himself to moping around the house all day.

But unfinished business called to him and Kyle instinctively had to complete what was started on Chenobis. He double checked his back pack, counting on a few pieces of equipment, some special gear and request forms. He hoped to somehow find a way to investigate the excavation site himself.

Then he remembered he hadn't checked his mail. He moaned irritably and swept up his keys, leaving his pack on the couch. Kyle opened the door and there stood Steve, ready to ring the bell. The two men blinked, surprised.

"Steve!" Kyle greeted first.

"Kyle!" Steve mocked in turn.

"What are you doing here?"

Steve blinked. "Where are you leaving from here?"

"Downstairs to check my mail." Kyle knew it was a wrong answer.

Steve leaned against the doorpost, left brow raised. "Dressed like that? Afraid someone is going to jump you?"

Kyle glanced away, a dead giveaway for someone who knew him like Steve. "I don't want to argue about this, Steve." Kyle said quietly.

"Good!" Steve shouted a bit loudly. "I'd hate to resort to uh, chaining you to your own quarters."

Kyle hesitantly shook his head. "I have to go back. You know that."

Parker's expression bounced in an inward shrug, then his blue eyes pierced Kyle's. "Okay." He accepted easily. "Lemme get my gear."

"Alone." Kyle emphasized.

Steve clenched his jaw. "I can't allow that. You should know that by now."

Kyle's face set itself in determination. "I am not . . . going to argue about this." He repeated firmly. "No more deaths. No more surprises. I am not going to stand by while this creature attacks anyone it chooses."

Steve ran his tongue along his teeth, his eyes remained steadfast on Doctor Scott. "If my memory serves me correctly, it attacked you last."

"Because I got in the way." Kyle retorted, his voice never rising. "It was after Kayla. It's wrong, Steve. I took an oath as a doctor and staying here endangers everyone around me. I will not have anyone endangered on my account."

Parker's eyes narrowed dangerously, "You are every bit as important as the next person here, Kyle Scott. We are a family and we take care of each other. I will not stand by and watch anyone die without a fight."

"No!" Kyle mourned in desperation. "If you come with me, if you return to Chenobis, you will not come back, Steve. I will not suffer anyone to go through what I went through. You've been marked. I know it. No more deaths . . . especially yours."

Steve lost it. He shoved Kyle against the nearby wall, his left arm pinned Scott's neck, his right arm held Kyle's arm behind him. He moved so fast, Kyle had no time to counter strike. "We can do this one of two ways, Doctor," Steve hissed. "Your way, or mine. We're going to do this my way. Otherwise, I WILL chain you to your own quarters!"

Kyle shuddered under his grasp. He was trying to protect his friends but they weren't making matters easy for him. Scott drew a breath, his eyes wet with on-coming tears. "And force me to break an oath?" He whispered harshly. "How could you?"

Steve sympathized. Kyle was just as determined to protect them from his fate, as Steve was to save him. Parker swallowed hard. Fear for Kyle tempted him to embrace his friend. "Kyle," he whispered, "This is no easier on me than it is on you." He swallowed hard, "I've already lost Rayan and Michael. I'll be damned if I stand by and loose you too! You guys, you and Jill and Shan and Rhyan and Jeff, Nick . . . all of you are my family. You're the only family I have."

Steve slowly released Kyle, so sorry for his rash actions. He turned away as tears choked him inconsolably. He didn't mean to frighten Kyle. "Besides . . ." He added with effort, ". . . some how I finally get to sort of repay you for all the times you've literally pulled me out of the grave."

Kyle looked away, trying to give Steve a moment of privacy. He swept up his fallen hat and traced its circular rim. He swallowed hard, trying to think of something that would save the moment. They both felt passionately about one another's lives. But Steve's argument seemed far more valid than his own. Kyle would have acted the very same way. "There . . . is a café? On Chenobis I think Kayla would like to see . . ."

Parker didn't look at him right away. He fought with his own shame, drawing two breaths and wiping a tear before turning back to Kyle. He forced a smile and nodded, accepting Kyle's offer.

Kyle hesitated a moment then reached up and brushed Steve's moistened face. He opened his arms and hugged his friend, mindful of Steve's injured shoulder.

They withdrew and Steve acquired a more relaxed breath. "Give me forty-five minutes. Promise?"

Kyle nodded and blinked. "I promise." He swore.

END PART 1

T.L. Arens


	2. Chapter 2

I'd like to thank Bre Tyler with all my heart for the science vocabulary she graciously provided for Dr. Scott's autopsy. Thanks, Bre, you're one in a jillion!  
-Tams

TRANSFORMERS:

Sentinel Arc: Bad Dreams

Part 2

Kyle met Kayla and Jill at the brightly-lit spaceport. Kayla welcomed him with a warm hug and Jill wiggled her fingers in greeting as Steve stepped up, now wearing his black armor. Kyle didn't see him and Jill exchange an eye wink.

Kyle reshouldered his back pack as a shuttle touched the landing strip not far from where they stood. He half wished either Midnight or Voodoo would take them instead. But Midnight had his hands tied in a legal battle between a newer member of the intersystemary alliance and a band of supposed space pirates. Voodoo was unavailable, working on the more dangerously damaged areas in the south continent. That was alright but Kyle couldn't understand why Voodoo kept a shield between them most of the time now. Lately it resulted in a series of headaches, but not so that Scott couldn't tolerate the pain. Kyle frowned to himself and figured Voodoo must be in another bad mood.

"Here comes the bus." Parker joked. The four of them turned to face the shuttle as it lighted beside them not more than three yards away. The hatch lowered and the ladies boarded first, Kyle, then Steve followed. Kyle took a seat across from Kayla and snapped his safety harness together and watched her gracefully apply her own.

She gazed up and he sent her a wry smile. "You didn't have to come, Kayla, really."

She slowly blinked her lovely dark, sparkling eyes. "I know." she answered with the same leveled voice. She swept her dark hair from the horns curling round her cheeks. "But since you and Steve got into trouble last time, I thought me and Jill should tag along and try to keep you out of it. Besides, Jill said she wanted to go with you to the excavation site."

Kyle blinked, very grateful.

After talking with the pilot for several moments, Steve found his seat and strapped in. "I thought it might be a good idea to tell our driver exactly where to drop us off." He announced.

"And where's that?" Jill asked as she tied her white hair.

"That museum-place where Beth D'Chlavic mostly worked."

Jill touched her right temple, trying to recall: "Rychal." She guessed.

"Right." Parker nodded.

Kyle's eyes fell to the floor. He hadn't even thought of going to the museum. He gazed at Steve whose face was locked in an aimless stare as he communicated with Midnight. Kyle decided to let go of his feelings of inadequacy. His friends weren't there to do anything more than support his decision.

The museum's lobby smelled of stale paint and old books. The smooth marble floor bore the museum's business label and three huge paintings dangled from the right side of the room, the left side displayed a menu of offices, rooms and staff members. Kyle and Steve stared at the menuboard while Kayla and Jill raised their heads to the ceiling's lofty height.

"Here," Kyle pointed. "They still have Rychal's name on here."

"Slow progress." Steve muttered. "Room 394. I hope they have elevators here." He adjusted his backpack and moved ahead of his three friends. Kyle slid the hat back over his head and walked beside Kayla. Jill slowly tagged along, her brown eyes taking in every little detail around them.

They were forced to take the staircase. Steve had to stop on several occasions to catch a breath that yet reminded him of his wounded shoulder. Kyle remained with him while the ladies traveled ahead, chattering about this patient or that, catching up on Jill's operetta hobby or Kayla's latest pen pal. They took their time, finally reaching the third floor and passed through a pair of stainless steel automatic doors. A huge reception area yawned before them, lined in rich velvet burgundy walls and three hand-made tapestries. At the opposite end of the room a great corridor stretched out of eyesight. In front of that squatted an old wooden desk. A round-faced receptionist tapped at a keyboard.

Steve drew a deep breath, a little weary from their climb. taking on his leadership responsibility he approached the receptionist. "Hi." He greeted through the translator.

She slowly peeled her eyes off the monitor, staring at him over a pointy little nose bridged by a set of tiny reading glasses. "Do you need something?" Kyle thought he was going to die laughing. The woman practically spoke through her nose.

"Uhh . . . we're hoping to find someone we can talk to in regards to a Mister . . . Rychal?"

She stared at him like a vulture then smiled like one too. "I'm sorry. Doctor Rychal died two months ago. You'll have to go elsewhere."

Kyle stepped up and set his fingertips on the old desk. "My name is Doctor Kyle Scott. I was in the process of treating Beth D'Chlavic when-"

The receptionist took to her feet, her face a distortion of emotion. "D'Chlavic committed suicide. End of story. Now please leave."

"She didn't commit suicide; something killed her." Kyle sternly replied. "We're here to find out what's responsible."

Her dark grey lips pursed in a taut little circle, her eyes, colored in make up, darted from one Interface to the other. The receptionist sat back in her chair, her temper fell just a notch. "You can talk to Donner Klank. Or to Donner Zha'ahn or Donner Miggs. But they're hard to catch. They might be able to help you."

Steve blinked slowly, recognizing what she was doing. "We don't have time to 'catch' people." He said simply. "Time is running out."

The receptionist opened a drawer and plucked up a piece of chocolate candy. She popped it in her mouth and slowly, rudely chewed it in front of them. "You'll simply have to go through channels." She drained a glass of iced water.

Steve was not in the mood for this kind of treatment. "We need something more direct than 'channels'."

The receptionist threw her hands in the air. "Direct channels? You?" She smirked, mocking. "You're not even from this planet. What makes you think you'll get a hearing?"

Parker set a hand on either side of the old desk and leaned right in her face. "Yeah, well, we either go through direct channels, or we go directly through channels." His striking blue eyes shot right into her.

The receptionist considered his expression, then his armor, then his three companions. Then she reached for the phone. "Donner Shindricks? Sir, there's someone who would like to talk with you."

Shindriks didn't exactly welcome them with open arms either. Steve and Kyle led the ladies down the hall and through door number 390. They entered a room piled floor to ceiling in books and newspapers, artifacts and shelves overflowing with more reading material. Three over-filled wastebaskets stood around the desk and behind the heavy dark brown desk sat a tall lanky man with a pale grey face and white hair. He ignored them initially, tapping at a key board and glancing once or twice at a notepad.

"I suppose you're the rude people who harassed my receptionist."

Steve gave him a 'guilty-as-charged look and silently crossed his arms. The four Tentchi remained still, silent.

When Shindriks grew tired of his silent-treatment game, he sighed loudly, impatiently and turned to them. "What do you want? If you're after a grant, you will have to go through other channels. We don't give grants here."

Jill folded her arms defensively. "You gave Beth D'Chlavic one." she replied coldly.

Shindriks's grey face flushed darkly and his jaw moved from one side to the other. "That was differing circumstances." He answered.

Steve raised his left brow. "I don't suppose that has anything to do with Rychal, does it?"

"Or the government contract." Kyle muttered quietly.

Shindriks glanced from Steve to Kyle and back. A thin smile smeared his lips across his long face. "Who are you people?"

He led them down the hall into what was Rychal's office. He fumbled for keys while the four waited. "Rychal knew Beth was on to something and he begged the museum to fund their work for another full year while Beth's sister scrounged for other grants and loans. Then one day some government worker came to Beth's house looking for her and talked to her husband." He found the key and undid three locks.

Jill searched his face with her dark eyes, finding only the truth in his expression. "But Whyler didn't really know what was going on, did he? He was just hoping his wife could get enough of a grant so he and the kids could be with her on the site."

"Right." Shindriks answered. He opened the door to a small dark room cramped with books, tools, computers, artifacts and paperwork. He stepped in so the others could follow then closed the door behind Kayla. He smiled grimly at the tall dark lady and latched one lock. "There's so much stuff here I don't know which of my staff I should assign this mess to. There's just no way of finding a place to start. Rychal loved books and papers and such. He's been known to steal ancient scrolls and texts from sites. In fact, wanna hear something weird?"

Shindriks grabbed all their attention and they stared at him expectantly. The museum curator stood straight, proud. "Rychal brought in this one scroll from an early dig. He translated it in three days and read it out loud to me as a joke." Now Shindriks smiled grimly. "I lost my hair the next day."

Kyle and Steve flinched in surprise. Jill blinked. Kayla heard only half the story, her eyes swept from one end of the room to the next, looking for anything regarding their problem.

"Donner Shindriks," she called politely. "What about the space ships?"

Shindriks blinked. "S-space ships?" He forced a light laugh. "Where did you hear about space ships? What space ships?"

"The ones Beth remarked about in her journal." Jill answered. She watched as Kyle plucked up a small vase and turn it over in his hands while Steve read a book from a nearby stack.

The curator shook his head. "There must be an inaccurate piece of information. They never said anything about space ships."

Kyle, Kayla and Steve all stared at him, their eyes, dark and striking, shot him with suspicion. "No." Shindriks repeated. "No ships. She's found cities. Wonderful cities filled with old tapestries and bones and dishes and alters and-"

"What's the significance of the dog in the ancient world?" Kyle interrupted.

"S-significance? Well . . . predator, naturally."

"With the eyes and stomachs removed." Doctor Scott added.

The thin man forced another laugh. "You can't be serious! I have no idea what you're talking about."

"That's funny." Steve instantly answered. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were trying to hide something, Donner Shindriks." He heard the curator swallow convulsively. "Tell you what: you tell us the location of the site and we'll leave you all alone with your little secrets and fears. Sound good to you?"

The four Interfaces exited the taxi two hours later. Their armor-shod feet scraped across broken blacktop and approached a rickety ancient building decorated with bright lights and large posters. Jill entered the bar and grill restaurant first. Her eyes scanned what she thought as a filthy run-down establishment. The old wooden walls and tables smelled of oil, the wooden floors crunched and grounded under her feet, indicating more filth than the medic/technician care to think about. Yellow lighting touched all their eyes, the stench of alcohol and roasting meat mingled with the sharp eye-watering smells of tobacco, or Chenobis' equivalent thereof. She turned to her male companions with a scrutinizing eye.

"Are you guys sure we're going to find a guide here? Look at this place! No descent guide would dare step foot in here."

Steve smiled confidently at her, his blue eyes sparkling. "Nonsense." He answered smoothly. "This is where all the good business is. See, people inhabit these places because they know only the desperate are willing to come here and spend really good money. I should know, I did it a few times myself. Come on."

And Parker moved ahead of the others. Jill stared pointedly at Kyle. "He's nuts!" She whispered.

Doctor Scott smiled smoothly and replaced his hat. "Yup."

Parker took a stool at the bar and glanced right, then left. All the patrons were tough, large grey men anywhere between their teens and seniors. The bar tender handed two over-weight bearded men their drinks and accepted a private tip. Three other men engaged in conversation called for the check and another young man with a woman attached to his arm approached the bar, sitting at the stool while she remained standing. She clung to him and giggled at every word he had to say.

Finally the bar keep attended Parker and Scott, nodding once at their lady companions. Jill scowled at him while Kayla glanced nervously about, surprised no one had said anything regarding her alien looks. She squirmed uncomfortably and inched a little more closely to Kyle. Even her armor gave her no security in a place like this.

"What'll it be, people?" The bar tender asked directly.

Steve's left brow shot up. "Sunsets?" He asked.

The keep nodded. "Sunsets. All of you?"

"Water." Kyle corrected for himself.

"Me too." Kayla hurriedly added.

The keep snorted and smiled loppidly. "You come to a bar and don't order drinks? You folks aren't from around here, are you? Looking for information?"

Steve gave him a flashy grin. "What was your first clue?"

The Keep nodded again and jotted their order on a tablet and passed it through a window behind him. "What's the question?" He asked, laying hands on the counter.

"A guide to an archeological site." Kyle answered flatly.

The keep puckered his lips. "Interesting."

Steve decided to add to that: "Beth D'Chlavic?"

The Keep gave him a deeper nod, seeming to understand. "That's the spooked site, isn't it?"

"Spooked site?" Kyle echoed.

"Yeah. Every one of those archeologists died from the curse. Every one of them. So you're heading that way, hu? Think you're going to find treasure there?"

"Not looking for treasure." Steve replied as an older waitress served their drinks.

The keep harumphed and turned right, towards the door. "There's a couple of guys, kind of mean sort, who might help you. But their fee's not too palatable."

Steve and Kayla glanced in the pointed direction and found two burly men huddled in a corner, absorbed in a small hand-held computer. Kayla assumed they were playing video games.

Jill shouldered her back pack a little more securely. "You know," she announced, "I think this requires a lady's touch." She handed the pack to Kayla and walked away before Kyle could utter a sound of protest.

The three hung back while Jill wove her way around three tables and avoided bumping into the couple as they made their way out the bar. She stepped to the table and got the two men's attention. But from across the room, their voices could not be heard. Kyle and Steve waited, watching, more than prepared to jump to her rescue should the moment call for it. They watched as the nurse/technician flipped her silky white hair once, her right hand resting comfortably on her hip. Even in the armor, Jill projected a kind of undaunted charisma. The two men seemed to remain polite to her. One of them put his mini computer away and folded his hands on the table. The other glanced around her to her companions and nodded.

Then McKennan returned with a smile. "They'll take us." She reported. "But they want fifty percent of the fees up front and the rest when we reach the site."

"Done." Steve answered swiftly.

Kyle remained silent, still not comfortable that his friends were putting themselves in danger on his account. He drank his water and wondered what Voodoo was doing.

The shuttle they took resembled something a little less safe than an ancient Earth jalopy. Steve could not recall a time when he was more than happy to be standing on firm ground again. He checked his equipment and belongings, then made sure his friends were alright and more or less prepared for the four mile hike down the cliff side. Kyle fidgeted constantly, rubbing his hand and glancing over his shoulder as though expecting something or someone to jump out and attack them. He was spooked. But Scott would not admit it.

Kayla noticed Kyle's behavior too and with a glance at Steve, she linked Kyle's arm in hers and the two followed their guides to the edge of the cliff.

Kyle gave her a grateful smile but said nothing. Steve followed them, Jill taking up the backside, daring to glance over her shoulder now and again, just to be sure.

The site was everything Beth D'Chlavic mentioned in her journal. The sea rushed in a roar, forcing all conversation to be held in loud voices. Clean air, washed in sea spray, cleared their heads and kissed their armor-clad bodies with tiny droplets.

Down, down and the light faded slightly. Kyle paused once, his eyes spotted the camp through the visor in his helmet. Memories of a blood-splattered wall rushed through his mind. The blood smeared and formed an eerie mark, as though it were writing an alien alphabet. He trembled slightly.

"Kyle?" Kayla called softly. "What is it?"

His heart beat faster and Kyle batted his eyes in the sudden rush of cold air. Kayla's dark brown hair flew to life in the gentle breeze, her large eyes unmoved from his expression. She watched as Doctor Scott swallowed his fear, blinking again under the stern self control developed by many centuries of training.

He drew two deep breaths, shook his head then pressed forward. Kayla stared at him until Kyle offered her his arm. Obviously he didn't want to talk about it. She laced her arm with his, this time entwining their fingers and resumed the descent.

Left untouched by either police or government investigators, the camp stood in disarray, a chaotic graveyard. Rumors of people dying every time the camp was disturbed had more or less discouraged trespassing. Cooking ware lay in a tumbled heap. Clothes dotted the ground now soiled and soaked with rain and high waves. Three automobiles stood as monuments to what was a worth-while money-making venture. One automobile rested topped-over on the ground, its chassis charred and black. Two tents still stood, dutifully protecting the property within. Many items, including the eastern wall of one tent, were stained with blood.

Jill proceeded their guides. The two burly men, clad in bullet-proof vests and climbing equipment, made no move to hold her back. She aimed for the nearest tent, an ugly green expanse with entrance flaps that whisked in and out with the hardy ocean breeze. Jill deactivated her helmet, waiting just long enough for it to slip into subspace then glanced back at her companions.

"It seems everything is still here." She announced. "But I thought authorities were supposed to be here to clean everything up. Why is it still here?"

Parker moved on ahead of Scott and Kayla, not so much as glancing at their guides. He peeped into one car then scanned the area. The ocean roared and splashed another half mile from the cliff side. There might have been a total of three miles worth of wilderness before the sea claimed that side of the world. Why did the scientists bring vehicles? Steve decided to let Jill investigate the tent while he approached a car, mindful that Kyle settled enough to scrounge and mull over blood samples and clothing. Their guides started a camp fire and contacted their base.

Deep ugly scratches desecrated the car Parker examined. It stood roofless and weathered. Holes peppered the vinyl seats in the front and back and a shoe sat in the back seat; someone's foot still in it. Steve winced and opened the driver's side to 'pop' the trunk. But the car was a bit old, even for Chenobis and no trunk lever could be found in the front. Steve slammed the door a bit loudly and swished through tall grasses to the trunk. He took extra note how the back end suffered minor damage. But he could not determine whether it was from an attack or an older accident.

Steve merely blew the lock with his gun, not bothering to pick it. The car opened like an unwilling clam and revealed a trunk stuffed with boxes and sleeping bags. Steve hauled out the sleeping bags, tossing them carelessly in the back seat and sat on the fender and opened the first of four boxes. Computer readouts, manuals, maps, a small box of tools, a first aid kit and someone's private supply of chocolate was all he found there.

"Steve?" Kyle called.

Parker stood abruptly and just missed hitting his head on the hood. He found Scott to the right and Kyle waved him over. Steve closed the trunk and approached, hoping Kyle wasn't going to show him anything gross.

Kyle poked a stick at a pile of small bones. Steve squatted beside him and stared at the eerie site. "What is it?"

"A cat . . . of sorts." Doctor Scott answered simply.

"A cat? What would eat a cat and leave the skeleton in tact?"

Kyle shook his head. "Insects are known to do things like that. Or maybe the animal died of natural causes and insects came and finished the job. But that usually takes months and months."

"Well, the incident here happened over two months ago."

Kyle met his gaze and Steve could tell his friend was very nervous. "The bones are soft, Steve. That means this creature didn't die that long ago. I'd give it a week, if that-" a flash hit Kyle, blanking his mind. The vision of a wind pressed itself hard against him and he remembered a voice, someone screaming. And the wind had teeth.

Steve saw Kyle's eyes widen, his face turned blank and stared at the rockface before them. Parker gripped Kyle's upper arm and tried to read his friend's expression when the doctor blinked as though recovering from a seizure. "What?" Steve asked softly. "Did you remember something?"

Kyle sorrowfully turned away. He shook his head and stood straight, unable to meet Steve's puzzled face. Steve watched him make distance between them. He had half a mind to tranquilize Kyle, call Midnight and have them taken back to Cybertron. Parker was right on insisting Kyle did not come here alone.

Kayla screamed. Both the men took off toward her direction, leaping over damaged goods, boxes and rounding an old campfire site. Kayla turned and hid her face against Steve's shoulder while Kyle knelt next to a worm-infested corpse. Scott recalled the armor covering his hands into subspace and snapped on a pair of latex gloves.

Steve swallowed his revulsion, wrapping his arms protectively around Kayla. He heard Jill stomp through the grasses. She passed them and did the same as Kyle, producing a pocket scanner from subspace.

"Investigator." Kyle announced over a rush of sea waves. "Looks like the government and local investigators might have been here after all." He gazed over his shoulder at Steve who raised his left brow. "Question is, where's the rest of them and their equipment?"

"Probably in the very same place as this guy's stomach." Jill answered plainly. She took her turn glancing over her shoulder. "Kayla, it's okay. He's been dead for a while." She assured gently.

Kayla turned to her, her dark eyes wide. "I thought he was someone who was here before us and when I touched his shoulder, he fell over."

Kyle slowly stood, not breaking eye contact with her. "The corpse was still standing?"

"Yes."

Kyle and Steve stared at one another. Parker winced. "Perhaps we should camp up the cliff tonight, rather than here. Just to be on the safe side."

Kyle rounded them and swept up a wet blue tarp from the ground and laid it respectfully over the body. He shot a sharp gaze at Steve, but it wasn't really aimed at Steve at all. Kyle was angry at himself for not taking more time to read through Beth's journal first. Damn sloppy, he thought to himself. He laid several large rocks over the tarp to keep the wind from tossing it away. His companions stood by in silence, concerned for his sullen behavior.

Steve struck up the campfire. Their guides sat with them quietly discussing current events in their own native tongues. Steve concerned himself with a map of the continent while Kayla made dinner. Parker kept a close eye on Kyle who had fallen far too quiet. He longed to reach out to his friend much like Midnight did for him when despondency hit.

_Agreed._ Midnight answered quietly. _I'll see if I can get a hold of Voodoo. _

_Kyle says Voodoo has kept a shield between them all day. I think that's part of his problem._ Midnight vibrated puzzlement down their link and Steve only gave him an inward shrug.

_Voodoo accused Kyle of the very same thing._ Midnight said at length. _He said he's had a headache the last couple of days. He used a few choice words, too._

Parker frowned deeply and watched as Kyle's right hand twitched then rested. _I should have just chained him to his quarters. _he moaned.

_What?_ Mid asked.

Steve caught himself and smiled sheepishly. _Nothing. Has Ashtar called yet? _

_No. She and Cathy are still on assignment. _

Steve stared into the fire. He watched as Kyle started tossing small pebbles at the coals. The fire's light shot off the doctor's eyes, lighting his face in a frightful fashion. Kyle tossed another series of rocks into the fire. He seemed unaware of everything around him. He tossed again until his hand twitched and he held it in mid air for a moment. Parker caught Kayla glancing at Kyle too and they met eyes.

"Kyle." Steve quietly called, knowing Midnight was listening in.

Kyle didn't look at him.

Steve decided to just keep talking. "What do you want to do tomorrow?"

Kyle stared unblinking at the fire. It danced hypnotically in front of him. It helped relieve a growing pain in his head. It promised death and destruction. Fire kills and it dances the most beautiful of dances.

Something cold caressed his cheek. A pair of icy lips touched him. A set of poisoned arms embraced him. Kyle considered suicide just then. **They** would have to find someone else to torture and tease. **They** would have to find another host. Distantly he heard Steve call his name.

But all he could think of was Voodoo. Pain phased into his head behind his eyes as though someone slid a slab of thick metal through his skull. Pain throbbed in his temples, but Kyle did not move. His hand also started hurt.

Something cold kissed his face again like a spider kissing a fly before feeding on it.

It was only a matter of time.

Then Doctor Scott realized Steve had said something and he used his native subconscious trait to pull information forward and recall what Parker asked just then.

"I think we should pick around just a little bit more." He answered quietly. "Then we should check out the cavern."

One of their guides leaned forward over Jill, staring at Kyle who did not look back. "Place is cursed. You do not want to go there." He warned.

Jill gave him an annoyed look, holding the journal close to her bosom until he moved away. She glanced at Steve, but his eyes had not left Kyle.

Kyle said nothing. He just stared into the fire. A flash passed his mind. Something vague like a dragon, or a dragon's fire. There was a building full of children and the dragon spat fire and flames swept the room and he could hear children scream while he and other people carried them out. He remembered voices, but could not make out what they said.

Kayla added another log to the fire and brushed her hands of dirt. "Steve, have you heard anything from Ashtar?"

"Not yet. She and Cathy are still gone."

New names. Kyle's attention snapped out of his daze and he glanced from Steve to Kayla. "Who?" He asked.

They stared at him in mute surprise, then guilt shadowed their faces. Kyle realized the names were people he should have already known. He threw up his hands and took to his feet. "Oh no! I don't want to know!" and he turned away.

"Kyle!" Steve called as Scott walked off. But the doctor refused to turn back. Parker cursed himself and jumped to follow. "Kyle!" He called again.

Kyle leaned against a tree, pressing his forehead against an arm and shook his head. "Leave me alone, Steve. Just leave me alone."

Steve stepped beside him, glancing just over the cold starless horizon. He felt just as bleak as the sky. He reached out to lay a hand on Scott, but decided against it. "Kyle, I'm sorry. I . . ." he shook his head, unable to think of anything else to say.

Kyle fought to control his emotions. The throbbing pain in his head didn't help matters. He swallowed hard, his eyes fell into the terrible darkness before them. In the distance, the ocean roared and slammed itself against the cliffs. He wondered briefly how far down those cliffs went, how long it would take for him to die if he jumped off. He swallowed again. "So what else am I supposed to know?" He asked with a broken voice. "What else has been stolen from me? Who is Ashtar? What of all those other people you mentioned . . . Ryan or something." Kyle really didn't want to know. Not now. He longed for something simple, for some kind of easy answer. No, he longed to wake up suddenly and find this whole thing a terrible dream and he would get out of bed and go about his life.

Steve dreaded answering. "Ashtar is my wife." He said quietly.

Kyle's eyes shot at him, a fierce light reflected in them and Steve felt even worse. Kyle squeezed his eyes tight then opened them in disbelief. "You're married, and you didn't bother to tell me? What kind of game are you playing?"

"I'm not playing at any kind of game." Steve answered levelly. Kyle trembled now and he turned wholly toward Parker, the light in his eyes died. Steve drew another breath. "You have been in and out of shock in the last three weeks, I don't know how much information you can handle all at once-" he interrupted himself and held up his hands. "Okay, I made a mistake." He added carefully.

Kyle fell to his knees and bowed over, overwhelmed with frustration. He laced his fingers in his white-blonde hair and longed to dig his hands through his own skull and pull it apart. He almost couldn't cry.

Steve knelt in front of him, still unsure whether or not to touch him. "Kyle, I'm sorry." He whispered.

"It . . . isn't you, Steve!" Kyle wept. "I just want my life back! Every morning . . . I wake up and hope to God I will remember and nothing . . . nothing comes! I don't know who I am! I don't know anyone around me! And I listen to my journal . . . and it's just dates and names and events! I just want my life back!"

Steve struggled to think of something, anything to say to help ease Kyle's pain. He finally laid a hand on Kyle's head, his own heart ached. "Kyle . . . it hasn't been any easier for us." He said as soothing as he could. "But we are here to take care of you."

Kyle slowly sat up, hiding his face in his hands. "I'm sorry." He whispered.

"No!" Steve shook his head. "Don't be sorry! Don't be sorry."

"I come dragging you guys here . . ." Kyle could not finish the sentence. His body shuddered with grief and Steve tightly embraced him.

"It doesn't matter." Parker murmured quietly.

"It does," Kyle argued, "If I'm going straight to Hell." he laid his head on Steve's shoulder, feeling the cold armor against his face. His right arm weakly fell. He could do nothing now except lean against Steve. He thought about staying awake and wait until everyone was sound asleep before finding his way back to the cliffs.

He was talking about death. Steve knew that was not how Kyle usually talked. This was not the Kyle Scott he knew. And Parker suddenly suspected Kyle did not come back to Chenobis to find an answer, but to die. He held his friend closely. "Then that's where I'll go, too." He whispered. But he doubted Scott heard him. Kyle's arm fell of its own accord and Steve guessed Scott had passed out. Whether it was from emotional overload, or other ailment, Steve could not tell-at least not here. He pushed himself off his knees, easily managing Kyle's weight. Steve swept under Scott's knees and carried him back to the campfire.

The sun yawned an expanse of colors, painting the sky in golds and pinks. Kyle's eyes snapped open the moment sunlight touched him. He sat up and took inventory of his surroundings. Their guides had passed out a few yards from the rest of the camp. Kayla slept nearby Steve, Jill lay opposite of Kyle, the journal under her arm. He stood, drawing a cold breath and wondered how he was able to sleep with his armor on.

The back of his mind screamed for something but Doctor Scott could not tell what it was. He carefully picked his way toward Jill and slipped the journal out from under her. He paced some distance from the rest of the group, his footfalls cushioned by soft ground and long grasses. He stood at the edge of the cliff and gazed down at the campsite. He recalled thinking about dying the night before, but he felt nothing of it now. For the millionth time, Kyle tried to reach Voodoo, only to find a cold empty expanse in the link.

Kyle realized that was one of his problems. Separation from Voodoo in this manner has caused an emotional imbalance. He struggled to recall what he did last night but all he could remember was being upset about something.

Did he and Steve have an argument? Kyle searched hard, struggling to recall words, but nothing came to mind. The corners of his mouth tightened in frustration and he sat in the cold tall grasses. Everyone was still asleep, giving him a little time to consider what to do from here. He knew they should have studied the journal first. Doctor Scott opened the book and flipped through the pages, seeking passages regarding the site and Beth's experience.

"I call them the Watchers." One passage claimed. Kyle recalled that one clearly enough, though he didn't remember whether Jill told him that or not.

"The two dogs have empty eye sockets and their stomachs have been carved out . . . the skin scroll tucked away in the little ceramic box . . . The word 'Zhagk' in the ancient language means 'demon'. Could this be a contract with a demon?" Kyle thought hard about this. All his clues were right here and he wondered why he came back to Chenobis at all. What a crazy idea! What was he hoping to accomplish? What was he after? He needed more than answers; he needed a weapon.

The doctor's dark brown eyes scanned the expanse of the ocean before him. It was no later than fifteen minutes past sunrise and already clouds gathered in the distance. Desperation urged Kyle to keep thinking, to plan exactly what he needed to do. He needed to know what he was up against, that much was clear. There was no way they could combat the creatures unless they had more knowledge.

What troubled Kyle more then anything else was how Jill mentioned that Chenobis suffered from plaques every so often. Their answers were here. Not just in the journal, but here at the site. Why didn't the government do anything about the deaths here? Why was everything still here, even when someone said it was cleaned up?

They did say it was cleaned up, didn't they? Kyle blinked. No! Whyler said the site was closed off after the government investigators disappeared.

And then there was the discovery of the space ships Jill mentioned. What would the space ships have to do with this? Kyle dove back into the book, looking for the passages dealing with the space ships.

" . . . we found the space ship!" He scanned further, finding Beth's team was divided between opening the ship, or leaving it in peace. But to Scott's dismay, her group decided to leave it be.

He turned back to the description of the dog statues and wondered about the missing eyes and carved-out stomachs. Why? And the answer might lie with the dead investigator Kayla found yesterday.

Symbolic? Beth mentioned about the skin scroll as a contract with a demon. Perhaps someone along the line made a contract with a creature-in this case what was considered a demon to them-and perhaps the result was the dog-beasts?

Kyle's eyes narrowed. "No," he said softly. "Something's missing from the picture. Something's not right." He sighed and settled a little more comfortably and started reading the journal straight through.

Parker rolled over and groaned. The ground was too unforgiving for his liking. The morning light greeted him in dulled grey colors, the cold breeze bit his face. He lay on his back, lazily staring up at the clouding sky. They needed to get moving and get back to Cybertron as soon as possible. He didn't know what was wrong with Kyle. Were they losing him somehow? Steve fought that notion with every shred of his will. That's precisely why he came with Kyle.

Parker sat up and found Kyle already gone.

"Shit!" He exclaimed and took to his feet.

"What's wrong?" Kayla asked sleepily.

"Get up. Scott's already gone." Steve ordered sternly.

"What?" Kayla and Jill both sat up, their eyes wide.

"Damn him!" Jill spat. She stood and threw her blanket down.

Kayla immediately shot off toward the pathway leading to the site. Parker followed with a last glance at their sleeping guides. They should be alright where they were. He dashed to catch up with Kayla and they ran right for the cliff ridge, both of them nearly sliding in their tracks when they found their companion sitting, reading the journal.

Steve approached Kyle first, Kayla tagging behind. Steve squatted beside the doctor. "I'm going to kill you." He threatened.

Kyle calmly stared at him and Steve swallowed air. Kyle's eyes were a gun-shot grey then they faded back to dark brown. "I didn't want to wake anyone up." He answered in a small voice.

Parker forgot his anger and settled on his knees. Kayla did the same, producing a med scanner from subspace. She scanned Kyle's life signs and frowned. He had a slight temperature and his blood pressure was a little too high. They needed to get him back to Cybertron. She turned to replace the scanner when it lit up on Steve and the same symptoms registered from him. Her face twisted in puzzlement and she glanced from one man to the other but decided to keep her discovery quiet until Jill arrived.

Kyle returned to the journal, holding it up a little higher to read out loud. "According to the Vemanese, the whole world nearly died. The great army of evil descended and their filth contaminated the world from one side to the other. First striking the educated then the under-developed parts of the world." Kyle lowered the book and studied Kayla and Steve as Jill joined them. "Jill was trying to figure out why the spaceships weren't more of a discovery, more of a culture-wide phenomenon than they are. The answer is, the Chenobians have known about the space ships throughout the centuries. Steve, Chenobians aren't the same people they were over two thousand years ago. They are a hybrid of Chenobian and alien races. These people were conquered by another race. In fact, according to this journal, we are standing on top of a temple that houses a space ship."

Jill knelt beside Kayla, her face reflecting shock. "You're saying that maybe the things that have hunted you down are aliens?"

"No." Kyle shook his head. "They are a result of the initial invasion. I don't know what the correlation is, except that about twelve hundred years after the first invasion, the dog-beasts appeared. They started killing indiscriminately at first. Then they started killing only certain populations. They attack every so many decades or hundreds of years, as though they are cast into prison and somehow escape each time."

Kayla's gaze stretched across the ocean as Jill joined the group. The sea's beauty seemed so calm, so peaceful, it was hard to believe a site filled with death could even be here. "Do you think Beth and her team are responsible for the dog-beasts escaping their prison?"

"Most likely." Kyle replied. He leafed through the book, searching for other things, other phrases. "But it's hard to say because after they entered the Room of Alters, her writing becomes erratic, filled with single-phrases or just notes like: "We found them, or rather their skins."

"Rychal." Steve automatically assumed.

"I think so, too." Kyle nodded slowly. "I thought that by reading through the journal, we might be able to retrace Beth's steps and find out exactly what happened and maybe find a way to correct it."

They all fell silent. Steve stared at his friend while Kyle kept turning page after page in the journal. Steve didn't want to go through with this. He didn't want to go into the site itself. But he knew full well that's where Kyle was headed. And there was no way to talk Scott out of it. But he knew too that Kyle wasn't doing this for himself. He was acting out of a physician's perspective-find the cause, create the cure.

"Okay," Parker sighed heavily, "We go down in teams, we stay in constant contact. I want to hear chatter. Nobody stays silent. First sign of trouble, we leave. Deal?" And he stared meanfully at Kyle.

Kyle nodded solemnly, knowing it would do no good at this point to argue with Steve. Steve was willing to do this out of respect for Kyle. And the doctor knew he had to play by these rules; well, this was a better deal than ending up chained to his bed-or whatever worse situation Steve could invent!

Leaving word with their guides, they took up their back packs and made the three-mile descent in less time than it took the day before. Kayla tried not too look at the site. Listening to Kyle's translation of the journal, she could guess what happened here: the poltergeists, or ghosts or whatever other entity was responsible for Kyle's dilemma, killed everyone here.

The four approached the mouth of the cave, the site's main entrance. Solid metal government seals crossed the mouth of the darkness but Steve dispensed with that by a single laser shot. He activated his helmet from subspace and headed in first, followed by Kyle then the ladies.

The descent proofed further than they thought. Down, down into the gut of the plateau itself.

"I think this is the reason for the cars outside." Kyle suggested. He couldn't get over the wonderful night vision capabilities of his armor. He dragged his fingers over the sandstone walls, taking extra care not to touch drawings and graffiti along the way.

"This is weird." Steve agreed. "If this place is this far down, how the hell did they even know of its existence?"

"Folklore?" Jill suggested. "If you recall, Shindriks was very nervous when you asked about Beth mentioning space ships."

Steve grinned, rather glad no one else saw his expression. "It's Kayla's charm." he answered. "I think he's rather fond of you, Kayla."

"Keep wishing, Steve." The healer answered quietly. "I'll try to set up a date between you two."

Steve spotted a strange black object protruding from the left wall. He paused to examine it a little more closely. "He's too young for me." He joked. Parker made room for Kyle to examine the strange object also and the two stared at one another through the visors in their helmets.

"Booby trap?" Kyle asked.

Steve stared at him indecisively. He recalled something Shangyn said about traps a long time ago. He glanced around and plucked up a rock. "Let's hope not." He replied. He tossed the rock out in front of them, watching as it rolled some distance then sat still.

No results.

"Steve," Jill called, "I think we should look at this from a technological standpoint."

Parker nodded. "Good idea." He called his laser guns from subspace and aimed them at the rock, heating it until it glowed red. Then from no visible sight, a laser shot out and blew the rock to pieces.

"Thermo-seekers." Parker assessed. "Guess that requires reflection procedures."

Kyle rolled his eyes. "Reflection procedures?" He asked.

Kayla lifted his left arm and undid a control panel located in the upper wrist region. She pressed a sequence of buttons and the armor reacted with a coat of finely-polished shielding. Kyle glanced at it then at her. "Thank you."

She smiled at him and laid a hand on his shoulder before following Steve down the cave.

Steve wanted to make sure he pressed forward before the rest of them. He took three steps and pain jabbed his left shoulder. He winced and rolled his shoulder twice. But it would not let up.

Then the words and photographs on the cave walls stood out and made perfect sense to him. Steve lost his breath. "Oh gods." He swore softly.

"What?" Kayla asked behind him.

"Do you know what all this says?"

"What?" Jill walked around Kyle, staring up at the strange Chenobian writing.

Parker pointed a finger at the dark insidious writing above them: "Warning: Sterile Zone ahead. Fourth level clearance only. Trespassers will be shot on sight."

"Sterile zone?" Kyle glanced from the graffiti to the odd pictures, realizing the styles were completely different, as though done by two different intellects. "Sounds like a science lab rather than a space ship."

Jill turned to him. "But Beth's journal says there is a ship down here."

"Yes." Kyle agreed. "But . . . why would it be sterile?" He thought hard, "Unless they were . . . running experiments."

The girls stared at him. But Steve did not bother. His face twisted slightly. The pain in his shoulder started to travel down his arm and he wondered if Kyle felt anything.

They moved on, their conversations grew shorter and shorter until all four walked in silence. The tunnel, as straight as it was, didn't seem to end and the markings on the walls repeated every few meters.

After another forty-five minutes, Kyle decided they should just turn back. Maybe they should have used one of the vehicles. Obviously that was why they were brought to the camp. But when he was about to make the suggestion, the tunnel ended in a right turn and a wide cavern shot right open before them.

Steve produced an anti-grav light from subspace and tossed it in the air. It clicked three times and flared, producing enough light to allow them to shut off the night vision from their visors. The room lit up like a house of mirrors. Every surface, every wall and panel on floor and ceiling was plastered with stainless steel plates. The shock of brightness forced them all to lower eyeshields on their visors. Once their eyes adjusted, they glanced from one side of the room to the other in silent shock.

Three huge, square, liquid-filled tanks lined one end of the room. Large control panels stood dutifully before them, one of the instruments still bleeped with life. Four rows of file cabinets and shelves jammed with books and memory crystals ran along the other side of the room. Above them dangled several skeletons of creatures none of them had ever seen. And against the far wall stood a lone cubical. The device, or whatever else it might have been called, stood as a perfect cube, made up of gold metal bricks. Letters of an alien alphabet inscribed across each brick. A metal trench surrounded it, giving the object the appearance of an alter. The center of its topside had been carefully removed and set to the right side of the floor. Broken hand lights, charred equipment and three damaged notepads littered the immediate area. And against the wall behind the 'alter' dangled a pair of humanoid skins.

Kayla turned away from the sight, not daring to guess whose skins they were. Kyle looked away also, turning his attention to the tanks. each of them encased a perfectly preserved specimen. He struggled to guess what the hell was going on here.

Jill stared up at the skeletons suspended in the air by strong cable. She couldn't tell if they were real or facsimiles. But they were not Human/Humanoid by any definition. The skeletons were biped, after a fashion. The heads were oversized, the eye sockets enlarged and the chest area bulky. The back legs were triple-jointed, giving the creature tremendous jumping/running power.

She followed Kayla to a control panel where a very ancient notepad lay undisturbed. Its pages long since yellowed still bore numbers and notes. Pencil etchings could be barely made out. Someone had scribbled out depictions of Humanoid females without the mid sections. Kayla pointed with her taloned finger and Jill silently nodded.

"It's as if they were cursing the female's ability to procreate." She mused over the comline.

"What's that?" Steve asked.

"We found a notepad here containing images of females missing their abdomens." Jill left the notepad and tried the file cabinets.

"That makes sense." Kyle mused. He decided the specimens in the containers were different stages of the same creature. "If you were female and raped by an alien invader and you knew you were going to have its offspring, you'd want to cut out that part of your physiology, wouldn't you?"

Kayla shook her head and flipped through other pages in the pad. "How very sad."

Kyle moved around the panels to inspect the creatures more closely when something crunched underfoot. He stopped and stared down at a small pile of cat's bones. Kyle squatted to study them further, taking careful note how they were arranged in about the same pattern as the pile outside. He glanced about and found six other piles around them.

"What's with the bones?" Parker asked, pointing at the pile. He tried to roll his aching shoulder again and forced his mind to concentrate on the moment.

"I don't know, Steve. The funny thing is, we haven't seen any wildlife since we got here."

"Oh gods." Jill breathed. All eyes turned to her as she slowly yanked on a heavy cabinet drawer, crammed with files and papers. Kyle, Steve and Kayla approached apprehensively. Each took a folder or a piece of paper as she could pull them out. But the paper was brittle with age and she had to tear several sheets before getting to a folder. She handed that to Kyle first, then a second one to Kayla. She almost gave one to Steve, but he simply stared at the one in Kyle's hands.

Kyle leafed through his, finding an ancient photo of a dark Humanoid of undetermined age. Other papers, written in some Chenobian dialect, were more or less official forms filled out with dates and personal data. The file came complete with a thin metal plate containing pockets of organic substances and labels scribbled with handwriting. Kyle instantly recognized the plate as a collection of blood, DNA and brain cell tissue samples. Fascinated, he silently flipped through other pages while Steve took the samples plate and raised a brow.

"Medical files?"

"Most likely." Kyle muttered.

"Why?"

"Tests? Documented cases of a disease? I don't know, Steve. I'm guessing this whole place was once a quarantined area. Perhaps unknown to the public."

Steve flipped the plate over and found a dark heavy letter laying over the backside, clearly displaying some form of classification. He protruded his lower lip and almost set it back in the folder when his eyes caught the brick face on the cubical 'alter' and instantly, Steve made a connection. He knelt before the alter and tried to match the plate with each brick on the alter.

Kyle watched until Parker found the exact match. The two met eyes. "Wanna tell me what this means?" Steve asked.

Kyle slowly shook his head and brought out a scanner from his back pack. The corners of his mouth tightened. "I'm getting energy readings." He reported. "But they're pretty low." Steve didn't answer. Another thought occurred to Kyle. He produced the journal and searched for the drawing. He unfolded it and held it up. He found the exact matching symbol on the spot.

"What does that mean?" Steve asked.

Kyle mutely shook his head. "But you know, I've seen it somewhere else, too, Steve." At his very words, the memory flashed back, splattered in blood. He flinched and blinked his eyes, ordering himself to remain in control. "I remember seeing it in blood."

Parker gaped at him. "What blood?" He asked sharply. The pain in his shoulder slowly increased, making him a little cranky.

Kyle shook his head. "Something I recalled in the reference room at Medbay while Jill was telling me what she found. I don't know, I just remembered it; something to do with a sword fight. I don't know."

The anti-grav light above them fluctuated and all four Interfaces made eye contact. Steve shook his head. "That's it. Let's get out of here." He stood as Jill left for the tunnel first, closely followed by Kayla. Steve took three steps.

Kyle put the journal and his back pack into subspace. He started to stand when pain shot through his hand and raced up his arm. He dropped the file and its contents and the scanner tumbled to the floor. Freezing iron sunk into the stigma and he gripped his hand, unable to say anything. He bowed over, sinking to his knees as sharp pain ran from his shoulder down his back and through his head.

"Kyle!" Steve was about to leave when he realized the doctor wasn't shadowing him. Parker found Scott still on his knees, doubled over. He cursed inwardly and tried to get Kyle to stand. He knew they had to leave now.

Kyle staggered to his feet. His head throbbed and he lost all sense of direction.

Kayla paused and when Kyle and Steve were able to move three steps, she exited the cave, following Jill through the tunnel.

But the men never made it to the exit. The second Kayla's foot left the room, a solid sheet of metal slammed, separating the two teams and the anti-grav light burst in a final glory of brightness and the room plunged into blackness.

Pain weakened Kyle so that he sank to his knees and rather than try to get his friend to move, Steve activated the light from his helmet and drew his weapon from subspace. He gazed in every direction, his breath held tightly. His shoulder throbbed sharply but he sternly ordered his mind to ignore it.

Silence hung like the death knell tolling in an unheard dream. Steve could feel something close by but he could see nothing. He glanced from one side of the cavern to another, swinging right to left and back. A voice whispered deep and cold. Parker could not make out the words and they left him unnerved. His heart raced and he tried to contact Midnight with no success. That left him even more unnerved and chills raced down his back. His shoulder ached unmercifully and his breath almost didn't come at all.

A clinking sound caught his attention and Steve swung to his left and watched in shock as the six piles of 'cat' bones reorganized themselves, standing and pulling together. They spat in a hissing sound and a skin of luminescence energized from the center of their rib cages. A set of wings made of razor-sharp metal materialized and their eyes glowed an eerie yellow-green. The creatures resembled more of small dragons than cats now, but whatever they were, Parker was sure they saw he and Kyle as food.

They took flight, swung once, cawing like old crows and attacked, their little jaws nipping at Steve's armor. But they could not penetrate it. Relief flooded Parker. He could deal with flies. He put the gun away to tend to Kyle.

The pain almost pushed Kyle to the point of unconsciousness. He weakly leaned against Steve and moaned softly when Parker tried to get him to sit up. One cat-dragon darted at Steve and pestered him, pecking at his helmet, gnawing on the armor, flapping its wings in his face. Annoyed, Steve batted at it.

"Kyle, you have to get up!" Steve insisted. "Come on." But for all his effort, Parker could only lay Kyle on the floor. He was about to scan Scott's life signs when a thomp followed by an eerie scratching of bone against metal echoed dully in the cavern. Steve swallowed air and swung around, seeking what could be an attacker.

He really didn't see anything until a terrible mouth crowded with unrealistically large teeth came right for him and knocked Steve to the floor. It growled and pounced on him then left as quickly as it attacked. Steve rolled and tried to get up but the pain in his shoulder traveled down his arm and stole his energy.

It came back and toppled him again, growling and clawing at his armor. Parker tried to back away to get a better look at it. It backed off first, however, revealing its shape as that of an ancient, freakish canine. It stood on oversized claws that scraped the metal flooring like fingernails on a chalkboard. Its oversized mouth dripped with a light-colored saliva. And while its body fleshed out in water and blood, its teeth were clearly an iridescent white. It stared at him, growling and chills raced down Parker's back. He wondered if it would attack if he moved toward Kyle.

"Just let me take care of my friend." He begged softly.

It snarled a reply and grounded its teeth.

"Please . . . " Parker repeated softly. "Let me take care of Kyle." He held his hands up and moved one foot then the other. He watched the monster watch his every subtle move as he inched toward his friend. Steve knelt, wishing he could see Kyle's face under the helmet. He couldn't tell if Kyle was even conscious.

"Kyle," Steve called. "Come on."

The pain receded, but not fast enough for Scott to move under his own power. He heard Steve and struggled to give him an answer. Steve tried to help him get back on his feet, but the moment he tucked his hands under Kyle's languid form, the dog pounced, striking hard into Parker's chest and slamming Steve into a file cabinet.

Steve lost his wind for a moment but caught it just as the dog-beast's terrible maw opened to engulf his right leg. Steve kicked his leg up, knocking it hard against one tooth, but did the dog no damage. He rolled and sprang back to his feet and called his weapon back from subspace. The dog barked, the sound shot painfully down Parker's spine and he winced. It growled and pounced for him again.

Steve ducked and threw himself in the dog's direction, sliding under the beast as it landed on all fours. It skidded along the plated flooring and spun around.

Kyle was vaguely aware of what was going on. He couldn't figure out why the girls weren't helping Steve. He sat up with great effort and struggled to force the cobwebs out of his head. He watched as the dog-beast pounced on Steve only to be held off when Parker slipped out from underneath.

They had to get away and there was nothing around them to ward the monster off. Kyle glanced all around the room, searching for anything that might help Steve. His eyes drifted to the three holding tanks, standing so dark behind their control panels. The tanks were made of glass and as groggy as Kyle's mind was, he almost didn't make the connection. He tried to stand, finding the pain attack had left him very weak.

He simply remained where he was while the beast shoved Steve against the wall. If it really wanted to, it could have simply opened its mouth and bitten off his head. But it was playing with him. Kyle drew his own weapon from subspace and set it on maximum. He fired at the first tank and not only did the glass shatter, it sprayed on impact, sending water and glass shards sailing in a million different directions. The beast howled and bellowed in protest. It spun around and leapt for Kyle.

Steve swept up a large slice of glass as water flooded the room. He swiped it in the dog's hind quarters, distracting the creature before it attacked Kyle. It yelped and fell short of pouncing the doctor. It turned back but Steve was ready for it this time. He swept in a diagonal direction and sliced the monster's lip.

The monster shrieked and Kyle shuddered from the resonating pitch. His head cleared a little more and Kyle forced himself to his feet as the beast melted into a stream of water and blood. It split in half and shot in opposite ends of the room.

Steve reached over and grabbed Kyle's left hand with one hand and shot at the wall behind the tanks with the other. Kyle didn't realize a door stood there. Their feet slipped and crunched on water and glass while the two streams of water and blood inched closer and closer together. The men made it to the door and found it had not budged.

"Combination lock!" Steve snarled.

Kyle found a keypad next to the door and glanced behind them as the streams of water and blood made yet another round in the room. It was as though the beast were throwing a temper tantrum, too angry to attack them at that moment. He looked back at the pad, and instead of finding numbers, he found the same symbols as indicated on the so-called alter.

"Kyle." Parker whispered urgently. "Please hurry."

Kyle switched his visor to pick up temperature differentials and found the button on the far left bottom corner was slightly warmer than all the others. He pressed that one and the door slid open so fast, it almost seemed to disappear.

Steve wasted no more time. He grabbed Kyle and passed through. The door slammed right behind them and plunged them not only in a deeper darkness, but in dead silence.

Kayla and Jill swung around the second the great door thudded behind them. Jill reacted instantly, drawing her weapon and fired.

No result. The ladies tried it together this time, but the solid metal remained perfectly steadfast. Jill kicked the door and fumed silently as her actions echoed down the long corridor.

"Any ideas?" She asked her companion."

"The journal?"

"No. Kyle has it."

Kayla thought hard and careful. "That can't be the only thing with a map in it, Jill."

McKennan's brown eyes shot at her friend, considering carefully. "You mean we should go back to the camp site and pick

around." She assumed.

Kayla slowly nodded.

Jill moved on ahead of her. "Steve?" She called via comlink. "Steeeevee!" She sang. They trudged back through the long dark tunnel. "Please answer me."

She and Kayla climbed through the darkness, neither lady realized the original walk through the tunnel was a steady subtle descent. They finally left the cavern, greeting a dark grey sky and cold wet air. Kayla switched her visor scanner, seeking anything with heat or radiation spikes. She found nothing and recalled her helmet into subspace. She moved on ahead of Jill, aiming for the second tent.

Jill managed to pick up something the moment she stepped outside. Her eyes narrowed, puzzled over what they had just witnessed. Was that room part of the spaceship? She tried to reach Steve and Kyle again with no better success. Frustrated, she glanced around searching for Kayla. Kayla nosed about in the tent, tossing clothes and papers in different directions. Jill peered through the flaps, watching Kayla as she rummaged through files.

"Kayla?" She asked softly.

Kayla paused a moment, drawing herself under control. She turned to Jill after wiping her cheek. "I thought if these guys were scientists, they would have picked up something from the spaceship, right? I mean, even if it was just radiation leaks or reverberation from the engine room. There had to be something they picked up."

Jill blinked then nodded.

"Well, if you're going to explore an area, you need to know how big it is and I'm willing to bet somewhere here they have a map that could tell us whether or not there's another exit."

Jill snapped her fingers. "You're right! I'll go look in the other tent."

Kayla shook her head as Jill departed. She didn't want everyone to think her so childish as to cry. Had she realized the men would not have made it out, she would have stayed. She should have stayed and helped Steve.

_Kayla? Kayla, what's wrong?_ Spellbinder asked gently.

_Kyle and Steve are trapped in the space ship and we can't get to them. _

_WHAT? Are you alright? _

_Yes. _

Kayla stood in the middle of a mound of papers and clothes, books and camping gear and started to cry.

_We're coming, Kayla. Me and Midnight and Voodoo. Just . . . just hold on, Little One. _

Spellbinder's use of her pet name did help to cheer Kayla up. She dried her cheeks of tears, though her eyes wouldn't stop making them. She delved into her search, pulling beds apart, rummaging through a mini dresser. She blew the lock off a safe and examined the contents-a bottle of wine, a leather tube tied carefully with gold string, a photograph of two males and a female all standing with arms across one another's shoulders and a date scribbled at the corner. Kayla also found several documents on parchment paper and somebody's private supply of chocolate. She took one of those and smiled. It wasn't as though the owner was coming back to claim his chocolate anyway.

Kayla thought of her cookies and how she had not made any in a long, long time. Kyle would have to try them all over again-he never tired of them! Steve . . . Steve was a cookie thief. Kayla knew exactly what he wanted for his birthday every year-two dozen cookies. The Kshi vowed to make a platter of cookies for Kyle the moment they got home. At least she'd get to see the look on his face when he'd try them.

Her lips trembled and tears skipped over her dark cheeks, jumped over the curves of her horns and splattered her hands. Kyle was touched by an evil for which they had no name. He meant so much to her and he was changing. He clung so closely to her as they made their first descent. She wondered if they should have left Cybertron at all. Then he freaked as they came down the first walk and Kayla could tell he saw something in his mind. It distressed him greatly. "Kayla?" Jill called softly over the comlink.

"Yeah?" Kayla snapped up, hoping. "Did you find something?" Her trembling voice betrayed her.

"No." Jill answered softly. "Kayla, it's going to be okay. We'll make it."

Kayla pressed her lips tightly as she paused in her search, wiping tears as they fell. She felt so silly. She wiped her eyes and drew a deep breath. Then her eye caught sight of an aerial photograph taken of the whole plateau. She stood amid the disarray of papers and files and dislodged the photo, encased in plastic and pinned to the roof of the tent. Tucked behind the photo was another piece of paper, carefully folded and labeled with a date. Kayla unsealed the covering and opened the paper with cold trembling hands.

Sure enough, the paper displayed readouts and mapped the entire region, diagramming a huge space ship. "Jill!" She cried loudly, "I found it! I found it!"

The girls made their way back to the upland and found their guides had long since broken camp and disappeared. They stared at each other and Jill set her fists on her hips and shook her head.

"What now?" Kayla asked quietly.

"Well, we still have our personal rations. That'll last us a good five days. But the problem is, Kyle and Steve are still underground and until someone comes looking for us, we're on our own."

Kayla somberly drew the map in front of her and studied it carefully. She hoped it would help her keep her mind off their problems and concentrate on finding a way to get Kyle and Steve out. Her taloned finger traced the area they were in and swung down along a dotted coastline and east toward a ravine. She gazed up, trying to size the difference between the map's distance and the actual time it would take to reach the ravine.

"What'd you find?" Jill asked as she glanced back toward the western sky.

"There is a ravine some ways from here. We might make it in a good run before nightfall." Jill eyed her, not liking the idea of leaving the men behind. But Kayla shook her head, assuming what Jill was thinking. "If I know Steve, he won't sit still. He'd find another way out. If this ravine is the only other exit/entrance, all of us will find our way there eventually."

"Kayla," Jill added gently. "There's only so much air available in the suits. That place has obviously been sealed for hundreds of years. Even if they find their way to the ravine, they might not make it in time."

Kayla's cheeks flushed in frustration and she bit back new tears. She wondered what was going through Kyle's mind to insist on coming alone. He would never have made it this far. She swallowed hard.

They may not make it any further.

"We need to let them know where to go. We need to tell them to meet us there."

Jill's brows raised and she tucked her white hair behind her ear. She pursed her lips. "Let's assume they're in the space ship."

"Okay." Kayla followed.

"Let's assume the ship needs power to run and can be activated remotely."

Kayla blinked. "Okay."

"What if we were to create some kind of signal that would force the ship to somehow respond and echo our signals."

"Sonic signals?"

Jill didn't answer. Her mind raced as she tried to come up with an idea that would or might work.

"Jill, we're talking about alien technology here." Kayla advised. "We don't know how it works, on what basis."

Jill's lips turned up in a smile and her four-fingered hand pointed at Kayla's map. "Yes we do!" She answered eagerly. "Remember Scott read something regarding the government demanded any artifacts dealing with crystallized technology?"

Kayla stared then nodded slowly, recalling the incident at the library.

"That's our clue! All crystals operate at a certain frequency. All we'd need to do is find the right frequency to get them activated!"

The corners of Kayla's mouth tightened and her large gold-flecked eyes stabbed at the map. "Jill," her voice came so soft, "We don't have any samples."

Jill's eyes narrowed. She thought hard. Then let up. "No. But we can look."

Kayla glanced at her friend, then at the sun as it passed into afternoon. They would have to work swiftly and make a night-run across the plateau. She nodded reluctantly.

The ladies returned to the site and searched for two solid hours, finding not much more than a journal accounting the science group's activities and a few translations of the ancient language inscrolled on the walls in the tunnel. Kayla sighed and decided to break for a moment, staring at a sun that now headed toward late afternoon. Their search seemed futile as not one sign of a crystal of any sort could be found amid the campsite. Perhaps the science team found nothing. Perhaps they never got the chance to explore. After all, the killings occurred after they landed here on the shelf, but who knows how far they might have gotten before the attacks began?

Then Kayla recalled how Donner Shindriks said Rychal had been known to take things home. If she could figure out where he camped, maybe, just maybe there might be something they could find-another map, if nothing else. She searched the tent she tore up earlier and found it previously occupied only by the geologist and a reporter.

Kayla moved to the next tent while Jill examined the one car Steve examined earlier. The medic tied her white hair back and snapped on a set of latex gloves and analyzed the one foot. There was virtually no blood and no evidence that it dried up. The shoe didn't have much dirt underneath, either. She set it back and decided to try the glove compartment.

Jill was forced to resort to violence to get the compartment to reveal its contents. Inside lay photos of someone's family, registration forms for the automobile and a wallet stuffed with plastic cards and a money order made to one of the scientists.

A bribe?

Jill's eyes narrowed again and she searched through more paperwork, finding bills and many, many unmailed letters. She opted to open one and out tumbled a flat trapezoid crystal the size of a playing card attached to a letter written in large, hasty words:

YOU WIN. GET US OUT OF HERE

Jill swept out three other letters and made her way around the messy camp toward Kayla's location. She remained outside the tent while Kayla scrounged inside.

"Kay," she called. "Listen to this:"

Kayla crawled over the mess she made and poked her horned head outside, taking note the sun was close to setting.

"You win. Get us out of here. And I found this attached to the letter." Jill handed her the crystal. Kayla accepted it in silence, flipping it over one side, then the other.

"I've never seen a crystal like this before. What's it based on?"

"I don't know. But it seems to be what the government was after. Apparently, the group did find what their benefactors wanted, but somebody made sure the package never arrived." And here Jill waved the empty envelope in the air. "I found others, too." And she swiftly opened another letter and held it taut against a slow breeze.

"To Donner Mizhan of Department of the Interior."

"It's a letter to the government?"

Jill nodded. "One of several, obviously." She continued, "Events and circumstances have forced us to abandon our original plans until better equipment and defenses can be instigated. Rivs and Cornor have disappeared entirely and yesterday, one of the vehicles blew up." McKennan glanced at Kayla who gasped, remembering what Beth's journal said about one of the cars mysteriously shifting out of park and killing someone.

"I know the crystal is of great importance to you, but we ask to be allowed to study it a little further. In the meantime, please send us back-up and equipment to continue the investigation in safety. Sincerely, Doctor Beth D'Chlavic, archeologist."

Kayla swallowed fearfully. "They were set up." She whispered.

"I think it's more a case of betrayal." Jill corrected. "I think someone here didn't realize they were all going to die. And I think that maybe that foot in the car is all that's left of him."

Kayla remained silent a long moment, trying to grasp what these people suffered to reveal an age-old secret buried in a past they themselves had forgotten. Then she pulled herself together and smiled. "Guess what?" She asked

"What?" Jill smiled back.

"Looks like Donner Shindriks was right. Rychal loved to snitch documents." And she produced a scroll wrapped gently in a leather pouch-the very same tied with a string of gold. "It's a little unnerving to look at, though. I've never seen anything like it." She handed the object to McKennan and stood from the mess. The sun kissed the horizon and soon the world would be blanketed by darkness. Chenobis had no moon, a great distant planet acted as a natural satellite but it made little impact as far as light was concerned.

Jill undid the pouch and pulled out the skin scroll, wound tightly about a wooden roll and bound by a silk red string. She opened it and gasped. A shimmering surface met her gaze. The scroll, so ordinary-looking outside, glittered in luminescence inside and it moved as though magical liquid rippled across the surface. And with each movement Jill made, the words on the skin changed and to her horror, the words suddenly slid together and formed a terrible ugly face that glared contemptuously at her. Jill cried out and dropped the scroll. She flinched and stepped back, laying her hand on her chest.

"Gods, what is that thing?"

"I don't know." Kayla picked up the fallen object, careful so as not to look at it again. She rolled it up and sealed it, placing it back in the pouch. "Shindriks was right, though. Rychal did like to collect things."

Jill struggled to recall her lost nerves and concentrated on the tent Kayla raided. "That's Rychal's tent?"

Kayla mutely nodded and stood. "I was looking for a crystal when I found this."

Jill gazed at the one slice of technology for which the Chenobian government was willing to sacrifice a fine group of scientists. "Well, let's head back up and see what this puppy can do, shall we?"

Kayla grimly nodded and the sun kissed the world good-night.

Resident senior physician. It was a pretty title. But titles were only as strong as the authority behind them.

**Senior physician.** this woman, maybe his mother, repeated softly. **what fineness, Kyle.**

**Not so fine, Mother.** Kyle answered her. **I've lost my soul. They've taken it all away from me.**

She smiled grimly while a song faded into his mind. The song repeated at first in ambiguity, the words jumbled and slurred until ** . . .let it be.** came clear.

** . . .And though the broken-hearted people living in the world agree . . . there's a chance they might see . . . there will be an answer. Let it be. **

Kyle hummed the little tune, trying desperately to recall all the lyrics and phrases, trying to recapture something he had forgotten. A memory wrapped itself in a vision of blurred images and faded words. He rolled over on his back, his head throbbing with the remains of a headache. His eyes greeted a terrible all-encompassing darkness. He faded from light into death. He lay in a limbo of forgetfulness and not even Voodoo could pull him out.

Kyle sat up and found his body encased in a flexible exo-suit. He half-lay on a pile of rocks, or at least they seemed to be rocks. Their texture felt funny for something that should be solid. More like large thick eggshells, he thought to himself. "Steve?" He called through the comlink. The darkness isolated him and he hoped he wasn't as alone as his eyes told him.

"Hmm?" Parker drew a breath and realized he had fallen asleep. "Crap, what am I doing?" he jumped. "Kyle. Are you alright?"

Doctor Scott tried to take inventory of his body, finding most of the pain faded into memory. But his cheeks were wet and he trembled. He wished he could wipe his face but dared not try to breathe the air. His groggy head struggled to clear. "I think for the most part I'm okay." He answered slowly. "What happened?"

Steve sat up and turned to Scott. "I honestly don't know. Some booby trap was triggered and we were separated from Kayla and Jill. Those cat-bones you examined turned into little creatures and tried to attack me."

Kyle's face twisted in puzzlement. Something wasn't quite right. Not that Steve was lying, but there seemed to have been more to the story. Gods, was he losing his memory again? Scott forced himself to stand but he staggered and nearly lost his balance when Steve jumped to help.

"Maybe you should rest a little longer." Parker suggested.

"No." Kyle answered weakly. "It's not that. My equilibrium is off slightly." He sighed and tried to reach Voodoo to no result. Something flashed in his mind, an image, maybe two, maybe six, he couldn't count as they shot past his perceptions. He moaned miserably, mournful that the one person from whom he sought comfort wasn't there. "I think Voodoo's mad at me for something."

Steve eyed him suspiciously. "Why? For what?"

"I don't know." Depression touched Kyle and he felt very isolated. "I shouldn't have come without telling him. I mean, I know he's so easily mad and-"

Steve struggled to see his friends' expression, dying to find out what was going on inside Scott's head. "What makes you say that?"

Kyle did not answer. He pattered about the area for a moment before his night-vision returned to Steve. "Don't these things work in absolute darkness?" He asked irritably. "You're all I can see here."

"Even good technology has its limits, Kyle." Parker answered patiently. I don't know if we can go back the way we came. I doubt we can get through that door. I shot it once, before we entered. I doubt the effects would be any different on this side."

"So all we can do is press forward." Kyle guessed gloomily. He turned away, not sure what they would run into; a wall or another door; another room or . . . another dog-beast.

Steve activated the lights from his suite and laid a reassuring hand on Kyle's shoulder. "I've always liked spelunking. Come on." He tried to sound more cheerful than he honestly felt. Relief touched Steve when he heard Kyle snort. Kyle at least smiled at his bad joke.

They moved on for quite some time, treading a metal-covered floor in silence. The two men wandered down a corridor meant for creatures with stature not much taller than themselves. All along the metal walls stretched long glass-covered control panels and to their curiosity, spray-paint zigzagged indiscriminately all over the panels and walls in what looked like obscene graffiti.

"Can you make any of this out?" Kyle asked as they pressed down another long stretch of dull windowless hallway.

Steve paused at one point and had to step back to read one large phrase. "It's weird, at best." he announced.

"Oh. Just foul language?" Kyle asked.

Parker blinked. "No . . ." He dragged slowly. He back- tracked several yards and clenched his jaw. "You know, most of this stuff is pretty repetitious. I guess we've both been so concerned about getting out of here, we haven't bothered to look around."

Kyle frowned, guilty as charged. "What's it say, Steve? Can you read it?"

"Yeah. Most of it is just directions. Level 2. Blood separation, room 24, 27, 29. Sterilization, room 34. Conference room 2-B, room 44." Steve turned to Kyle and wished for the millionth time he could read Scott's expression.

Kyle gazed at the spray-painted graffiti with a face of twisted bewilderment. "What the hell is going on here? If this is a spaceship, and the aliens are intelligent enough to use crystallized technology, why the hell are they using spray paint to write out directions?"

Steve ran his hand alongside the strip of black lining the walls on either side of the corridor. "If the aliens bred with the Chenobians, what do you think they looked like to begin with? Wouldn't you think they would also have their own system of communication? I mean, in writing?"

"Yes." Kyle answered, not really concentrating along Steve's train of thought.

Steve turned partially to his companion. "Kyle, know what I think?"

"What?"

"I think this ship was commandeered for another reason. I think it was abandoned by its original owners and someone else moved in."

Kyle's brows furred in a daring thought. "And someone conducted experiments here." He added.

"Illegal experiments." Parker corrected.

"The skeletons hanging from the ceiling, the file cabinets and the tanks at the entrance . . . they were there for a special reason."

"Sorta like a front office if you ask me." Steve stole a few steps back to his friend and moved a little ahead. He allowed his palm to trace the wall, wondering how many people worked and lived here and what they were doing that made the very atmosphere, the very vibrations of the ship feel as though something evil created and resulted in evil.

The two traveled on for a few more hours. Darkness painted the corridor's terrible length as though Kyle and Steve were taking a one-way trip into non-existence. They said almost nothing, each man struggled with his own drear thoughts of isolation from his Dokiah. Each dealt with pain neither wanted to discuss with the other.

Then the inevitable slammed them in the face: they came to a dead end.

Kyle and Steve turned this way and that, searching in vain for another hallway or an exit. But that was all there was: a long corridor and millions of doors leading to department chambers and rooms.

"Great." Steve snarled. "So what are we supposed to do now? Go through everybody's bedroom and look for a window?"

Kyle said nothing, glancing from one unmarked door to another. He trailed one hand along the dark strip as he passed one door, then two, the other hand hung in his coat pocket. "I guess so, Steve." He answered softly. "Unless you'd rather sit out here and fume for the next few hours until our air runs out."

Captain Parker sighed impatiently. "No." He growled. "I can think of better things to do than waist air." He followed Kyle, examining each door, looking for something resembling an access point. "Don't these things come with doorbells?"

Kyle stared at the black strip for a long silent moment. "I would think these doors open only for retina scans or palm prints. Maybe even voice-activated codes." He suggested.

Steve ran his tongue over his teeth. "Gee, I left mine at home."

Kyle produced his laser pistol and set it on low frequency. "I brought mine." He fired several short bursts at the door's seams until the edges along the doorposts turned white-hot and Kyle viciously kicked it down.

Steve smiled, although he knew Kyle couldn't see it. "Nice job, Doctor Scott." He teased.

"My pleasure." Kyle purred, replacing the gun.

"You don't intend to do that to my apartment anytime soon, I hope."

"I don't make house-calls, Steve. You know that."

Steve laughed lightly and passed through first. He tried to decide whether to use another anti-grav light or the lights on his armor.

Kyle stepped through the threshold and snapped on his head lights, glancing in places Steve was not. They found several beds and a couple of tables. Shelves reaching floor to ceiling contained small slots wherein sat thin iridescent plates. Steve nosed toward a small cage sitting on a table in one corner of the room while Kyle examined the plates.

"Looks like someone's bedroom." Steve mused.

"Several 'someone's' bedroom." Kyle agreed. He plucked out several flat plates and found them labeled on one side. Grooves swirled lined the other side and flashed in brilliant colors when the plates were tilted just so.

Steve stared into the cage, finding the bony remains of a rodent of some kind. "Looks like Fido died a long time ago." He glanced at Kyle, a smile stretched his lips. "Whatcha looking at, Kyle?"

"Somebody's book library, I think." Doctor Scott answered quietly.

"How do you know?"

"The shelves. At least, if I had a book library of any kind, I'd need shelves to put them in."

"Can you tell what they are?"

"No. It's not Chenobian at all."

Steve approached and plucked a plate out of Kyle's hand. "Hey, didn't somebody mention how the Chenobians were looking for crystallized tech or something?"

Kyle silently shrugged. He couldn't remember.

"Is there a way we can play these?"

Kyle glanced up, finding only Steve's helmet replacing a face he'd rather see. "Not unless you want to take the whole ship back to Cybertron with us."

Parker frowned and handed the plate back to Kyle. "Let's get out of here." He moaned.

Kyle pocketed the plates and followed Steve out. Parker wasted no more time and he shot down the next door.

If it were a bathroom, it was the strangest bathroom Parker ever encountered. Tall stalls lined the room in fashionable rows. Some showers were completely sealed off, others seemed to have no door at all, and a crisscross glass grating made their flooring. The showers and stalls didn't match the rest of the ship, as though there were an after-thought, added on by a completely different designer.

The worst of it was the bodies that lined, lay and dangled every part of the room. Parker recognized the type of room on the spot and blocked Kyle from entering.

"Steve!" Kyle crossly called.

"It's not a good place to look into." Steve turned to him and wished he had never opened the proverbial can of ooze.

Kyle insisted and Steve allowed him only a glance. It was enough. The doctor moaned. "Oh gods, Steve. You would think that with the advancement of technology would come an advancement of sapience. You would think people who are so book-smart, would be more compassionate than that." Kyle shook his head and turned away.

Steve clenched his jaw, sorry Kyle had to see it. He remembered some of Braintrust's torture chambers and wondered why such an advanced race as the Chenobians had need of such places. Gas chambers and acid showers. There were other horrible devices in there too, but what Steve saw was more than enough for him.

Kyle fired at the door to the next room and headed in as though running from the torture chamber. Steve followed and both men glanced at one another, then back at rows and rows of drawers racing back in the distance as far as they could see.

"What the hell . . ." Parker proceeded his friend and stared at one such drawer, reading a clear label. "This says Subject 22."

Kyle approached and read the one above "Subject 19." He scanned another. "Subject 15."

Steve stared at Kyle and swallowed hard. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" He asked carefully.

In answer to his question, Kyle yanked on the handle and out slid a metal sheet with a dead non-Humanoid alien laying flat on its cold dark surface.

Both men flinched.

"I think," Kyle answered slowly, "We've just confirmed Chenobis' secret dirty war."

Kayla and Jill jogged three miles across the plateau in the middle of the night. Two hours passed before Jill was satisfied with their position. The grass swacked their knees, making it hard to run any faster than a medium pace. The ladies recalled their helmets and huffed in the cold night air. Kayla's large gold-specked eyes scanned a landscape virtually untouched by star or moonlight. Soft rolling hills rose and sank, forcing them to run up and down constantly. It was maddening.

Fortunately they encountered nothing along the way. Unfortunately, that included their guides. But even the shuttle was gone and both ladies assumed the cowards got tired of waiting and stranded them.

Somebody was going to hear it from Midnight.

Jill produced the flat crystal and examined it closer when it started glowing softly. Kayla gazed over her shoulder. "What is that thing?"

Jill shook her head. She held it out in front of her, not really sure what she was doing. But her action was rewarded when the crystal tugged at her arm and drew her in a north-by-northeastern direction.

They walked some distance, using the night vision in their helmets to keep from stumbling. Then the piece stopped at the lip of a crater-shaped area. Kayla and Jill exchanged glances, wondering what to do now.

The ground lit up under them and the lights rotated, racing faster and faster. They could hear machinery snap and clank three times before silence claimed the night sky again. Then the ground lit up again, this time blazing a blue trail straight east, right toward the ravine.

Kayla undid her helmet and shook her hair free. "What was that?" she asked again.

Jill shook her head. And without another word, adjusted her back pack into subspace and took off, following the trail.

Kayla thought she heard footsteps behind her. She turned right but saw nothing. Her brows wrinkled. "Steve?" She dared. But nothing was there. A little spooked, she raced to catch up with Jill.

The ladies moved as fast as they dared in the late of night. Even with their night-vision supplied by their armor, it was difficult to see everything. The long thick grasses and infrequent trees interfered with their speed. Finally Kayla and Jill slowed their pace to a walk and five miles later, they were forced to rest.

"According to the map, we're about half way there." Jill informed her tired companion. Kayla scrunched on her knees and wrapped her arms about herself. They had run twelve miles non-stop and it caught up with her. She glanced about them, still finding the mounds that ran up and down . . . she noticed for the first time how they were all uniform in shape and size. Almost as though they were made. To their right stood a large thicket of huge trees. But strangely enough, the rest of the plateau did not support more of a forest-like environment. Perhaps someone had committed a clear-cut job a long time ago and the forest failed to reclaim the land.

Jill sank next to her, concerned. "Kayla, are you alright?"

Kayla's gold sparkling eyes met her friend and she forced a smile. "I'm just worried, that's all." She admitted. "Kyle was terrified when we made that first descent. Something seemed to bother him but he didn't want to talk about it."

Jill remembered he and Kayla held hands on the way down. At first she thought it was sweet, but now McKennan realized the reason was not flirtatious. She wrinkled her brows. "Do you think he's having problems with Voodoo again?"

Kayla shrugged. "Who knows, Jill. You know how those two are: they feel they have to handle everything privately. Kyle takes his own problems inward and Voodoo insists on solving his alone. I thought Midnight was going rip Voodoo a new intake valve when Voodoo showed up at the ward with Kyle and a set of damaged wings."

Jill looked away, thoughtful. "Yeup." She agreed with a sigh. "He is a handful."

Kayla stared at Jill, apt to smile, "Which one?"

And both ladies giggled.

"I'll take Kyle anytime." Jill answered. "At least we've been around him long enough to count on his moods."

Kayla didn't answer. Sometimes Kyle did turn to her in frustration. Sometimes he would confide in her. Sometimes he felt comfortable enough around her to let down his facade of grim professionalism and act like himself. Kayla knew much of his personal history, how both his parents were workaholics and had little time for him. She knew he had lost close friends in an accident while he attended medical school. But there must have been something else, something other than Voodoo to drive Kyle into seclusion. Kyle was very likable, very kind. But he seldom socialized. Kyle's work provided a comfort zone. He was so busy, he didn't need to make any other excuse not to go when invited to 'hang out.'

Then she frowned. All this time, she was noticing Kyle's faults and she realized she had much the same habit. It was so easy to get wrapped up in work. Kayla realized she could not recall the last time all the Interfaces had sat down together for coffee and conversation.

At least, not since leaving Alean.

The Tji war seemed to have changed everything.

A snapping noise called the ladies' attention and Kayla and Jill sprang to their feet. Kayla drew a vibro-bladed sword and Jill drew a sonic rifle. They stood back to back, their eyes and ears wide open and alert.

The muffled sound of a low growl caught their attention and glancing between trees to the immediate right, Kayla and Jill confronted a mountainous, almost dragon-like creature, its head and back crested with horns and when it opened its mouth, jagged teeth gleamed white in the darkness.

At first it did nothing. Its nose flared and relaxed with each breath and the ladies stood very still, very cautious. Perhaps it was not going to attack.

Then it snarled and snapped at Jill and a second head rose from atop the first and roared with a series of piercing grunts. Kayla winced. Her horns picked up the frequencies and echoed painfully in her head.

Jill dropped and rolled as the first head swung in her way and snapped its teeth. McKennan charged up her rifle, but hesitated. The thing still didn't attack, making more noises than moves.

She waited, her breath not even drawing.

Then the creature stood on six stout legs and thwacked a spiked tail into the ground. The first head swung at Jill again, the second slammed itself between trees toward Kayla. Kayla instinctively parried and sunk the blade deep into its muzzle. It roared, the sound vibrating hard in Kayla's head and knocked her off her feet.

Jill reset the weapon just as the first head opened its maw and descended over her. She shot it clear through the roof of its mouth and leapt as the head came crashing to the ground, a muffled, pitiful sound followed. The second head roared and Kayla whimpered, a migraine throbbed hard against her temples. She doubled over, struggling to control the pain. Jill shot at the second head then screamed when the first head picked itself back up and tried to snap at her again.

Kayla drew strength from somewhere deep down and hefted up the sword. With all her might, the Healer threw it at the base of the creature's neck. One head thunked to the ground, heavy like a huge tree, the other squealed as the vibro-blade sunk deep into its strange, iridescent hide. It swung in Kayla's direction. She would have ducked, but the pain in her head blurred her vision so that she could not tell what the monster was doing until it was too late.

It cuffed against her, its sharp, saber-jagged teeth scraped hard against the metal of her armor, denting it one second, puncturing it the next and tossed her several yards away and hard against a large tree.

The creature rounded its neck and pulled the weapon out of its hide and dropped it. Its six legs lumbered loudly across the terrain, aiming for Kayla. Jill activated her helmet and dashed in between two running legs, retrieving the sword as the monster thundered right above her. Jill shot the thing from the underside and using the blade, sliced deeply into its tail. And while she could not cut the tail off (not enough leverage), she succeeded in getting its attention from Kayla.

It barked in a high-pitched tone and curved around, one leg snapping out at its attacker. Jill ducked and fired, finding the laser had no affect on the stump once occupied by the missing head. She dropped the rifle and spread her legs for better support. Kayla was an excellent marksman. Jill on the other hand . . . wasn't. But she knew the weapon and decided not to try to throw it. She waited until the very second when the creature's mouth descended like a great mountain and Jill expertly whacked off the front part of its upper jaw.

The creature responded with a terrible yelp and it threw itself on the ground like a whipped animal and thrashed. Jill dropped the sword and back-flipped just as the tail whipped one side to the other and back and two seconds later, it did not move again.

Jill waited. She had been on enough worlds to know that 'dead' didn't mean no reflex motility.

The beast thrashed again, howling with all its might as though surrendering its soul to the wind. And then it fell limp.

Certain that was the last of it, Jill glanced amid the darkness and the tall trees, looking for Kayla. But she saw nothing. Maybe Kayla had fallen somewhere or maybe she wandered off. "Kayla?" She called though their comlink.

"Ji . . ."

"Gods, where are you?" Jill called, stepping this way, pace over there, leaping over a broken tree. But Kayla did not answer. Jill swished through the knee-high grasses, rounding the creature and its pool of blood to the right then she double- backed round the left. She turned again and spotted a little huddle of a figure a little further off than she thought. Jill bee-lined for Kayla and produced a med scanner the moment she came within the six-foot range.

She knelt beside Kayla's crumpled form and took to heart that the puncture wound wasn't fatal. The impact forced a hole into the suit and the metal shards bent painfully into Kayla's arm. They would have to remove the entire arm section of the suite in order to repair it.

The scanner also indicated strained blood vessels close to Kayla's brain. The pain was such that all Kayla could do was lie as still as possible. Jill debated whether to give her something for the pain or not, whether to give her something for the swelling-she did have something for that but the rest of it would have to recover with rest.

Literally thousands of bodies lay packed away in cabinets like so many files. Kyle and Steve checked about five drawers each with little or no success in discovering what exactly killed them.

"Autopsy." Steve waited until Kyle returned his gaze through the faceless visor.

"Autopsy?" He echoed. "Now?"

"You're the expert between us."

Kyle shook his head. "Steve, have you any idea how long it takes to do an autopsy?"

"I want to know what killed these people, Kyle, in case any pathogen might have decided to grace us with its presence. I don't know about you and Voodoo, but I think that Midnight would be pretty upset if I let myself be infected with a potentially terminal contaminant."

Steve's point was valid from both a common-sense and a medical point of view. Glancing and wondering as to the age of the lined up, well-preserved organisms, Kyle figured that they could very well be of any age considering the complete desiccation of their bodies. He sighed and spotted a nearby counter complete with an overhead mirror. "Well," he sighed. "I don't like the accommodations, but I'll see what I can do. Help me move this one over there, would ya?"

Steve obliged and they hefted a seven-foot tough-skinned creature to the counter. Producing a small box of laser powered autopsy tools from subspace, Kyle picked a small laser scapel, activated its red beam and proceeded to fracture the xenoform's sternum. Parker cringed at the sound of cracking bones and looked away.

"Kyle," he called after several silent moments.

"Yes." Kyle replied quietly.

"I'm starved."

Kyle snorted with a smile. "I'm dissecting a body and all you can do is think of food? That joke's an old one, Steve"

"Well, yeah." Steve answered smoothly. "But I don't know how long we've been down here."

Kyle looked up from his present, careful extraction of the alien's main pulmonary organ. "I don't know, either." He confessed.

"Whatcha got so far?" Parker asked, trying to sound cheerful.

"Well, so far I've discovered that this alien's cardiovascular system is quite similar to humans, having the necessary heart, the main pumping artery, the aorta, and the accompanying arteries, arterioles, veins, and venules. The blood's main oxygen-carrying protein structure is hemoglobin-based but it has several nucleoside mutations, which separate it from the human norm. Overall, I would say that it captures and utilizes oxygen in at least a ten percent increase of a typical Homosapiens system. I've also been able to partially extract some inorganic and organic material from its pseudo-stomach from which I can tell its primary ingestion mode was as an omnivorian."

"What's that?"

"It eats everything."

"I knew that."

"Yes, I know."

Steve smiled and leaned back against the nearby wall. "How about a good-sized steak or roast? We can add 'taters to that, a nice salad, maybe-"

"Steve?"

"Hm hmh?"

"Shut up."

"Okay."

Kyle examined the creature's organs one by one, finding nothing. Then he moved to slice open a vein and batted his eyes. He called for a closer view through his visor and bent over for a closer look: the vein was literally bursting with myriads of oatmeal-colored flukes. Doctor Scott sliced open the heart's superior vena cava and found additional worms. Finally, cutting through a tiny venule draped over the liver's bile duct, he found more of the same creatures.

"Well," he announced after a long moment. "Either this creature carried parasites that eventually killed him, or I'm looking at a clue that possibly destroyed his whole species."

Parker pushed himself off the wall and stood next to Kyle, swallowing his revulsion. "Do you think it's contagious?"

Kyle turned to him. "I don't know. I would hazard a guess that these creatures are related to the human liver fluke, Clonorchis sinensis, since they share characteristics similar to the other Terran trematodes, but they have distinctly unique features setting them apart as alien in nature." He paused for a moment. "Let's look at a few others."

But the results were similar, although each of the five creatures Kyle examined were at different stages of infestation. Three bodies bore evidence of death by torture more than death by infestation. But Kyle felt sure the infestation wasn't far behind. He stripped off his gloves and called his armor gloves back from subspace.

"What's this picture say?" He asked Steve, breaking a long silence.

"What's that?" Steve asked, blinking behind his visor.

"Neither of us has seen one Chenobian in this ship. Yet we have signs they were here. No bodies other than these aliens."

Parker lined his teeth with his tongue. "So you think that whatever they set out to do was accomplished and they merely closed business and moved on?"

Kyle mutely nodded.

"Germ warfare." Steve guessed.

"Exactly. And I'll bet it was DNA-encoded germ warfare on a parasitic level. The parasites were designed to target the alien's specific genome and, perhaps, mutate the organism over several decades. Think of it, Steve, evolution within a century instead of millions of years. I would think that as the propagation progressed, the Chenobian genetic code would be completely changed, but that evolutionary stage was halted when the Chenobians instigated their underground movement of which these numerous corpses are testament. The Chenobians raced against the clock to eliminate the aliens the only way they could: using a counter-agent to the mutation factor and turned it against their oppressors."

Steve thought about it for a long moment, trying sort it all out. But he came back to the one root question: "Where in all this do the dog-things come into play?"

Kyle shook his head. "I don't know, Steve. I honestly don't know."

They abandoned the room, retracing earlier steps and one by one, blew down each door they encountered, hoping for a way into another level.

But one hour led to another and Steve became acutely aware of their depleting oxygen levels. The armor was designed for temporary combat situations, allowing them to move and work up to a solid ten-hour period. But according to Steve's logs, he and Kyle had been trapped close to eight hours now.

He said nothing as Kyle shot down another door leading to yet another collection of beds and shelves lined with personal belongings. Neither Tentchi had interest in taking anything with them. Their only goal was to get out.

By the time they reached the fifteenth door, Kyle's patience had worn out. He fired at the (damnedable) thing and stared into the darkness, dreading what they would find.

Steve entered first and flinched. "Oh." His voice pitched. "Looks like someone's front office."

Kyle entered. A large white desk met their sensors. Several dead potted plants leaned against a far corner and several machines lined the walls. There were ancient telephones and a huge computer and something resembling a copy machine. Papers and pens, someone's unused coffee cup sat in the same place.

"This is all too creepy." Kyle finally quipped.

"Hmm?" Steve asked.

"Well, how old is this stuff? How long has it just been sitting here? This whole thing is too creepy. If all this is even remotely as old as the craft, and the Chenobians have not advanced much in the last several hundred years, something has caused a stunt in the planet's technological growth patterns."

Steve didn't answer him. To the left of three tall file cabinets stood a set of double doors. Above them perched a pair of arrows. One pointed up, the other pointed down. Steve glanced over his shoulder. "Wanna go for a ride, Kyle?" He asked.

Kyle approached and stared up.

"Up or down." Steve chirruped. "You get to choose."

"I'm too cranky to care, Steve." Kyle frowned.

"Mmm, okay." Steve forced his fingers as far into the crevice between the doors as he could and pulled. Kyle shook his head, knowing Parker wasn't able to do it by himself. He took the other side and they pried the doors apart then peered down a dark abyss. "Looks dark." Parker joked.

They glanced one side to the other, finding emergency ladder rungs posted against the backside of the elevator shaft. The two stepped back to stare at one another.

"Which way do you suggest we go?" Kyle asked.

"I don't know." Steve answered simply. "If we knew exactly what level we were on in the ship, we could possibly decide whether to find the control bridge, or engineering."

Kyle sighed. "Split up?"

"Nu-uh!" Steve adamantly disagreed. "I'm not letting you out of my sight. I'll get lost and then you guys would have to come back and look for me."

Kyle smiled. "Alright then. We go down."

"Why?"

Kyle only shrugged..

"Never mind." Steve shook his head. "It sounds like a plan."

Kyle gave an unamused smile. Parker jumped first, grabbing the rungs and started climbing down. Kyle followed a moment later.

They climbed in near blind darkness. The only sounds in the shaft were footfalls and metal-gloved hands hitting the ladder rungs in a morbid rhythmic stanza. The shaft's end reached far out of visual range, yawning in a one-way descent to nothing. Finally both men simply had to take a break.

Steve closed his eyes, longing to be outside. Kyle had offered no means of conversation and Parker wished he could think of a question that would give him some clue into what was going through the doctor's head. But he couldn't think of anything off hand. Kyle was irritable. It could be from exhaustion, or several other factors. Steve knew he was cranky himself. While he wasn't seriously injured by any measure, he started to feel the effects of the fight between he and the dog-beast. That promised to leave him sorely bruised for the next few weeks.

Kyle flinched above him and clung tightly to the rails.

"Kyle?" Steve called.

"Okay." Kyle answered immediately. "I'm okay." But his body betrayed him when he flexed his right hand in pain.

Steve didn't like it. He waited a beat, wondering if Kyle's hand just hurt from the long descent, or if it were a warning. Steve expected to be affected in the same manner. He waited several moments more before drawing a deep breath and moving down seven more rungs and found a door. Not that it was a big deal, he and Kyle had passed several doors on their way down. But this door was clearly marked with a symbol.

"Kyle?" He asked.

"Yes."

"I think . . . I think we might have found the bridge."

Kyle stared at Parker over his shoulder, hoping Steve was right. He was fatigued, thirsty and hungry. The Interfaces had the remarkable ability to continue to function long after a normal person would have collapsed in exhaustion. But he and Steve had long since passed even that point. "What do you want to do about it?"

Steve considered his options for a moment. "I'm going to blow it open." He answered.

"Steve, if something should catch on fire . . ."

"Nah." Parker almost sang. "I'll just use that goo-stuff. It works great in space. It should do okay down here, too. Move up about fifteen rungs. I'll join you in a minute."

Kyle moved up three then glanced back down. "Steve, just to let you know, I'm not in the mood to put you back together."

Steve smiled. Kyle was crankier than he thought. He produced a tightly-packaged tube from subspace. "Out of scotch tape?" he finally asked.

"That's not funny." Kyle growled.

Steve lined the elevator door posts and quickly sprang up the rungs, standing just two rungs under Kyle. He drew his laser pistol and shot one point of the gel.

It ignited in a well-controlled plasma burn, eating right through the metal and a few moments later, the door fell inward with a clang.

"I was right!" Steve called excitedly as he entered first. "We're here-your guess was right, Kyle! Are you happy?"

Darkness tried to hide alien technology the likes of which neither Interface had ever seen. Steve scanned the bridge from one side to the other, the light projecting from his suite could not create large enough a picture to give an accurate description of what they were observing. He stared in mute shock. But for all its wonders, Kyle did not take notice.

A distant memory flooded Scott's mind and someone projected terrible hatred toward him. Kyle couldn't tell if the event was past or present but it oppressed him with such emotion that Kyle caught himself on a rail. Despair ate deeply into his heart and threaten to overwhelm him. He fought it down, willing his mind to control his emotions. The past, he told himself, it's all in the past. He didn't see Steve descend a walkway to the front of the room.

Kyle searched for his companion when he caught his breath. His eyes shot wide when his visor registered a shape of blinding white energy passing through the far right-hand wall. He stepped back as the energy took on form, a leg connected to the body of a dog.

"Steve!" The word barely escaped him when the blinding figure of light pounced Parker face-down. It opened its gaping mouth and licked the back of Steve's neck.

Kyle leapt over the banister and drew his weapon from subspace, instantly setting it on high.

The dog-beast would have licked Steve a second time. Noise from the charged laser gun interrupted its activity and the thing snarled. "DO NOT INTERFERE, DOCTOR. THIS DOES NOT CONCERN YOU."

"Let him go or so help me I will blow my OWN head off!"

The dog-beast growled, but did not move.

Kyle pressed the gun barrel to the flexi-metal protecting his neck. He pressed as hard as he could as if to alleviate the pain in his heart. "One! Two! Th-"

The dog retreated and forced itself up on its hind legs. It's luminescent body folded like poured liquid and there stood a faceless humanoid with a set of dark empty sockets for eyes. "YOU ARE A CLEVER MAN, DOCTOR. YOU HAVE MANAGED TO INTERVENE AT OUR EVERY OPPORTUNITY. IT IS A RUDE THING. WE DO AS WE PLEASE. YOU WILL PROFOUNDLY SUFFER FOR YOUR RUDE INTERRUPTION."

"No one gave you a right to hurt and murder people." Kyle snarled, lowering the weapon.

"WHY? THAT'S A PRETTY SPEECH COMING FROM SOMEONE WHO HAS KILLED SENTIENT ROBOTS."

"That's different."

"OH. I SEE. IT'S ACCEPTABLE FOR YOU TO KILL CREATURES BASED ON INORGANIC MATERIAL, BUT NOT PERMISSIBLE FOR ME TO KILL ORGANIC CREATURES."

"I never killed for pleasure." Kyle's mind raced with ideas. He desperately needed to check Steve. But he was not about to approach the creature. As if it picked up on Doctor Scott's thoughts, the beast stepped several feet away. At first Kyle wasn't sure if he was being set up for an attack but when the dog-beast did not move for several seconds, Kyle decided to chance it. He slowly knelt beside his friend and scanned.

Steve's blood pressure and temperature were drastically low. Kyle needed to give him a hypo, but couldn't do it in a virtually airless, possibly poisoned atmosphere. He searched for a way out, discovering he had paid no attention to their surroundings at all. Foreign objects for which he had no names met his scant gaze. Kyle hoped to find an exit or a tunnel of any kind. What he found were tall monoliths and strange furniture positioned at flat boards and tables.

Absent-mindedly, Kyle reached into subspace and produced an anti-grav light. He tossed it in the air and it snapped open, the sphere's casing slid back behind itself to reveal a globe of brilliant white light.

The creature watched in amusement and smiled maliciously. The dark pits of its eyes reflected no light and Kyle looked everywhere but there. "YOU COULD ACTIVATE THE SHIP'S CONTROLS TO CREATE OXYGEN, DOCTOR." It finally said.

Kyle refused to reply as he stepped up to a large panel of transparent controls. The chairs (if that's what they were) had no backs attached. The control panels rippled like water when he reached out to touch them. Whatever technology the ship was made of, Kyle knew it was nothing they had encountered before. What were these creatures?

The dog-beast approached Kyle, but did not come too close. "FUNNY THING ABOUT BEING ORGANIC: SO MANY VULNERABILITIES. I KNOW HOW TO RUN THESE CONTROLS YOU KNOW."

Kyle couldn't look it in the eye. He knew it was tempting him to allow it to possess his body. "I don't think so." He answered stubbornly.

"OH, GROW UP, DOCTOR!" THE CREATURE EXPLODED. "QUIT YOUR DAMNED SULKING!" It leaned toward him, its voice oily and dark, "WE ALREADY OWN YOU. MIND AND BODY. YOU BELONG TO US. I KNOW YOU WOULD DIE TO SAVE YOUR FRIEND. BUT HE'S NO GOOD TO THE OTHERS IF HE IS DEAD, NOW IS HE?"

Kyle lifted his head slightly, but closed his eyes to avoid facing the creature. His hand throbbed painfully when the it leaned even closer, meaning to get a straight answer. "I know what you will do to me." Kyle answered with a shaking voice. Something like this, that killed for pleasure, that derived joy from torturing people, could not possibly have an ounce of honor.

On the other hand, the dog-beast was right, Steve needed help. And obviously, the Thing wanted him alive, though Kyle could not figure why. "Only for Steve." He agreed. And Doctor Scott bowed his head, knowing it was going to hurt.

The dog-beast passed into him and Kyle thought his chest would implode. Pressure crushed the skin on his back and his knees weakened. The first instinct was to lean against the watery control panel, but he stopped himself in time. Kyle's body straightened out before he could order it to do so. He helplessly watched as his arms and hands flowed over the control panel. Ripples waved over the watery surface and his fingers touched them as they danced outward. The ripples to the right turned one color, while the left side vibrated more quickly and turned another.

Light flashed on followed by an influx of air, blowing dust in every direction. The air circulated, sucking out most of the dust and blew in a cleaner atmosphere. Kyle felt the alien smile within him, though the doctor's own face made no expression. The beast undid Kyle's helmet and forced Kyle to breathe in the artificially produced oxygen. Scott blinked at the coldness and felt violated; the monster inside him had so much power over his own body.

"SOMEONE HAS FOUND A POWER CHIP DISLOCKER FOR THE HYPER-DRIVE." He said smoothly. "IN FACT, UNLESS I'M MISTAKEN, IT'S THAT PRETTY GIRL WITH THE WHITE HAIR. SHE'S VERY INTELLIGENT. TOO BAD SHE WON'T PROCREATE ANYMORE. THE TWO OF YOU COULD PRODUCE A CHILD PROGENY."

"That's enough." Kyle snapped.

It smiled again. "NOW I UNDERSTAND WHY PTYSAR CHOSE YOU. YOU'RE QUITE THE SPIT-FIRE. BUT I'M ALWAYS UP FOR THE CHALLENGE. I HOPE THE CAPTAIN WILL BE JUST AS FUN TO WORK WITH."

Doctor Scott silently fumed and searched for a way to kick the demon out.

Like liquid fire, agony shot clear down Kyle's body but he could not so much as quiver. The creature rammed its way into his mind, lashing at him in a way Kyle did not think was possible. Scott flinched within and withered as the ghost bit deeply into his soul. It ripped a piece off and Kyle could not cry out. Its terrible teeth made a second gash, mercilessly ripping his immaterial being and then it spat the broken pieces back at him. Kyle trembled with the inability to move or react. The thing in him pressed its face close to the face of his spirit, its steel-white teeth gleamed cold and wet with soul-blood.

"DO NOT DEFY ME AGAIN, KYLE SCOTT. OR I WILL PUT YOU IN A VEGETATIVE STATE. YOU WILL BE TENDED TO DAY AND NIGHT BY FRIENDS WHO HAVE TO FEED YOU AND WIPE YOUR ASS, HOPING IN VAIN FOR THE DAY WHEN YOU WILL COME OUT. BUT YOU WILL BE THERE PERMANENTLY. DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?"

It abandoned his body and Kyle gasped for air, collapsing. His head slammed against the control panel and he lay as though dead, having no ability to move or speak. His mind raced with shock. No amount of training could have prepared him for such an attack.

Kyle thought he was bleeding to death and his mind simply shut down.

The sun kissed the landscape with a cheerful brilliance. Kayla rolled over on her back and stared up as the sky lit in a soft rose hue. Early morning light peeked through tree branches and pine needles. But Kayla really saw none of it. Darkness shadowed her mind and the Kshi empath envisioned masses of armies marching in perfect rhythm over hills and across great valleys. Pillaged cities burned in their wake. Great dark ships hovered above them like giant birds of prey. One name came to mind: Aoung. He wore a crown of wood over his huge dark head.

Kayla blinked, wondering from where her head picked that up. She hadn't watched any movies or read any books that reflected the vision. But there it was. She frowned and tossed the whole thing aside as she slowly sat up.

The buzzing in her head quieted, but her arm throbbed. She found Jill nearby, sound asleep. A smoldering fire lay between them. Kayla nabbed her back pack and rummaged through it, hoping everything remained in tact.

To her relief, nothing was damaged or missing. She swallowed half a canteen of water and ate a couple food bars. She found the map near Jill's hand and slipped it out from under her. The two ladies lay in a small depression resembling a footprint or a meteor crater. Tall trees, several of which lay broken after the battle, surrounded them in a semi-protective glade. Kayla searched for it there on the map. But the news wasn't all that great. They were still at least a good day's worth of walk from the ravine. Kayla resisted the temptation to wad the map up and toss it away. She folded it and stood, finding the food she ate hadn't quite caught up with her body's weakness yet. She leaned against a nearby tree and gazed across the landscape. Two huge trees lay splintered like so much rotted wood. And not far off lumped the largest land animal Kayla had seen in her life. Its carcass reposed in a twisted fashion, missing one head and it stank.

a strange look patterned over its skin; reflecting the sky and the ground. Kayla's curiosity got the best of her and she crawled out of their safety zone and approached the body.

Sure enough, it mirrored her form too. Millions of tiny plates acted as individual mirrors, slanting light, reflecting it or absorbing light altogether, making the beast nearly invisible. Which would explain why neither Kayla nor Jill saw it the night before.

Kayla wondered if this creature really was native of Chenobis, or some other alien import. For all she could tell, it might have been a lab accident.

Spellbinder's presence pressed gently at the link and Kayla wearily informed him of their present situation. She frowned when Spellbinder explained what was delaying their arrival.

_Just please get here soon!_ she begged.

_We're coming, Little One. We're coming. _

"Kayla?" Jill called. "Kayla?"

"Here." Kayla answered. "I'm here. I'm okay." She waited until Jill joined her a moment later.

McKennan wrapped her arms about herself, stepping carefully over broken tree branches. She made a face at the beheaded monster before them then tossed her gaze toward the early morning sky. "Bronto burgers, anybody?" She joked.

Kayla shook her head. "Who would have known?" She asked herself more than her companion. "Let's get out of here." And she turned immediately away.

"Not until I have a look at your arm again." Jill argued as the empath picked her way back to their campsite.

Kayla knelt before her back pack again then moaned softly. "I'd give my teeth for a descent cup of hot chocolate."

Jill knelt beside her friend and plucked a scanner from subspace to examine Kayla's bounded wound. "I'll treat you to the very best when we get home." She promised. "How's it feel?"

Kayla rummaged through her bag as Jill chattered. She slumped, her eyes fell in a slight pout. "You know, we came here to keep the guys out of trouble. We weren't supposed to get into trouble ourselves."

Jill shrugged. "Steve thought his loony idea would work. None of us thought Kyle would actually be insane enough to come back here." The scan came up clear and Jill snapped it closed. "No infection." She announced.

Kayla ignored it. "He was going to come here by himself, Jill." Kayla's voice fell soft and sad.

Jill smiled lightly. "He wouldn't have gotten far." She answered, thinking of Steve's threat.

"I know." Kayla replied, thinking of the terrible reactions Kyle had to the excavations site.

"Well, let's see if we can't get further now. Are you up to a slow jog?" McKennan pushed to her feet and plucked up her back pack.

Kayla wordlessly shrugged. The scanner might have said she didn't have an infection in her wounded arm, but it did not register pain. It made her weary and she felt more tired just considering jogging a while longer. "No," she answered at length, "I don't think so."

Jill stood nearby, her back pack dangling from her hand. At this point, she didn't want to pressure Kayla into more than what her friend could handle. She stared at the dead beast, rotting slowly in the cold ocean air. Its size rivaled the brathrons from her home world. It might even be the same size as one of the Dinobots. She glanced back at Kayla and found the healer was already picking her way over and in between trees, due east. Jill ran a few steps to catch up to the taller lady. "You know, you really need to show me how to throw those vibro-blades."

"Hmmm . . . I don't know, Jill. I recall a certain nurse trying to learn once and nearly hacked off my head."

"I'll be more careful this time." Jill promised.

Kayla grinned. "If I teach you, Steve will want to learn. And if he learns, he will learn how to do it better than I and then he will show it all off and invite people-"

"Okay!" McKennan laughed. "I get the picture!"

They trudged forward, tall slender grasses swacked at their knees as they walked, sometimes stumbled across the uneven terrain. Trees grouped together swayed in the chilly ocean breeze and from the roar in the distance, the ladies guessed the sea was in an ugly mood.

The walk stretched off into late afternoon when they finally decided to stop and rest. They said little at first, both locked somewhere in her own contemplation. Jill felt uncomfortable finding nothing to say. But Kayla was glad for the silence. She produced a blanket out of subspace and lay flat, staring at a cloudy sky. Then little by little, she drifted to sleep.

Kayla woke later, finding Jill sleeping nearby, a small fire snapped and danced before them. Jill didn't sleep very deeply because when Kayla moved, the medic snapped up then relaxed, realizing it was just her friend.

"Move on now?" McKennan suggested.

Kayla drank more water and nibbled on another bar first. She hoped they wouldn't have to resort to living off the land before their partners came to their rescue. Quietly she wondered why no one had either bothered to contact any of them, or why no one from even the cities and foreign diplomatic offices had tried to rescue them.

The whole affair was fishy.

They decided to travel on through the night, utilizing the night-vision in their suites. Both ladies had slept long through the late afternoon, early evening and now they had to weave their way carefully about sloping mounds and terrainal depressions.

Dawn came early and breathed across the landscape just as the girls reached their destination. Gazing down with her eyes alone, McKennan judged the ravine to be about a quarter of a mile wide and about half a mile down.

"Shan would come in handy about now." Kayla sighed.

Jill produced rope and grappling hooks from her suite and tied them securely about the nearest boulder. "Perhaps. But we can climb down." She answered.

Kayla waited until Jill descended first. "Yeah, but wings would be easier than climbing. And you know, it's far easier going down than coming up. What if Kyle or Steve are injured? How would we carry them?"

Jill paused in her descent a moment and simply stared at Kayla for a moment.

Kayla frowned. She wasn't really in the mood to climb, not with her arm still hurting. She wrapped the rope about her body and slid down the lip of the drop-off, jumping and sliding two more times to catch up with Jill. "Next time Kyle pulls a stunt like this, remind me to pack a tranquilizer."

Jill smiled silently and moved on.

Fifteen minutes later the ladies touched ground. Early morning sunlight had not yet flooded the ravine, but enough light trickled down to reveal their suspicions correct: a cave crouched to one side of the ravine walls, possibly an entrance back into the darkness of the plateau.

The rest of the area, encased in solid rock, revealed ancient skeletons and damaged machines long since rusted and weathered. Every square inch of the rockfacing was colored in pictographical depictions of battles, people and a great deal of graffiti. Kayla and Jill walked in a silent daze, astounded over their find.

"I don't think anyone has been down here in a very long time." Jill surmised. "Beth never ever mentioned this place."

"Oh, Primus." Kayla gasped.

"What?" Jill turned left and three steps over to examine the graffiti Kayla found. Kayla didn't have to even point to it. There in red and white paint was the face and body of a dog. The very same thing that attacked them at Medlab. An angry snarl twisted its face. Someone had written all around the painting, some parts could easily be identified as swear-words. Jill unslung her back pack and searched for her translator.

Kayla examined other drawings and graffiti. As she moved from one wall to the next, the Kshi realized what she was scanning was a journal of sorts. Drawings of several figures stood in a group one minute, then they all lay on their faces the next, as though some terrible catastrophe had struck them down. Kayla found drawings resembling space ships and then a creepy depiction of a monster. It had over-sized eyes, its body drawn in heavy dark lines, long arms and a very large, almost insect-like head.

"Kay," Jill called softly.

Kayla returned to her and glanced at the ugly dog drawing then trained her eyes on Jill's scribbles as she translated the markings. "This is freaky."

"What?"

"This tells the story of a prince and how he made a contract with what was considered at the time, a demon. In actuality, the demon was another alien. The demon agreed to give the prince eternal life so that the prince could combat the alien invaders that had conquered his people. But it seemed the alien required payment and so the prince gave it sustenance-people, Kayla."

Kayla blinked. "I . . . don't quite understand. What's that mean? Is the dog representative of the demon? Was Nick right?"

Jill looked up from her work, staring at her friend. "About what?"

"The keepers. Remember? Beth mentioned the dogs were keepers. Maybe there was more than one demon at work. Maybe the dogs are the demons, the keepers."

Jill nodded. "And they broke their contract with the prince-and have been hunting Chenobians for centuries." She assumed.

Kayla snapped her fingers. "The scroll! I'm willing to bet anything that the scroll Beth talked about was the very same one I found in Rychel's tent. He had already planned to steal it. It must be the contract."

Jill seldom lost her face color. But in light of Kayla's guess, McKennan paled. "How . . . did blood do that . . . Oh gods, Kayla. This is freaky."

Kayla nodded toward Jill's back pack. "What of the crystal? How does that fit in?"

Jill shrugged. "A bargaining tool to get the government to give them more funding, I suppose. I want to take it back with us so Nick can examine it, give us a little more insight to the technology the Chenobians are trying to acquire."

They fell silent and their eyes searched high and low glancing at the artwork and scribbles. Jill shook her head. There was far more here than what she could translate in a day. She hauled out a 3-D camera and started taking photographs for future analysis.

Kayla kept browsing, taking in all the ugly or badly-drawn art, trying to read what the artist was saying. It seemed the alien's infiltration into Chenobian society was every bit as devastating as Kyle mentioned-how the people cursed the female's ability to procreate simply because the aliens were able to breed with the Chenobians. Kayla realized the little figures often drawn next to the alien picturers, must be indicative of what the Chenobians once looked like. They must have been a much taller people, once had a different color skin and . . .

Kayla couldn't believe what she was staring at: four eyes? She called Jill's attention at that point. Jill complied after photographing another section. Kayla pointed to the drawing. "Do you think this might mean the Chenobians once had four eyes, Jill?"

McKennan shrugged. "I dunno. Let me see." She hauled out her little translator materials and jotted down the few lines of text on the rockface. She checked and double checked. "From what I can tell, this says ' . . . and they were no more. Their soft dark complexion turned ash, their dark hair now polluted with colorless grey. Their eyes, once lifted to the sky toward the sun, once pierced the darkness at night'-wow."

"What?"

"You're right. According to this, Chenobians had four eyes. They used one set for day-vision, the other for night. But all that has changed."

Kayla glanced from Jill to the drawing. "So . . . that thing that attacked us was normal for this world? I'd hate to find out what else is normal for Chenobis."

Jill put her materials away. "Watery man-eating dogs, for one thing."

Kyle came to, wondering why the bed was so uncomfortable. Bright light painfully shocked his vision. His left cheek pressed against the surface of a metal-plated floor. Cold air pushed thin layers of dust along, drying his eyes and sinuses. Kyle dragged his knees closer to his body and every muscle and joint hurt with the slightest effort. Pressure pounded against his head. Despair ate into him and reluctance kept Kyle from doing anything.

What happened? And why was he on the floor?

_Voodoo?_ he called automatically. _Voodoo?_ Kyle thought about rolling over on his back, but feared pain and exposure.

Where was he?

"Voodoo?" He called weakly.

No response.

No sound.

Kyle shuddered. His mind drew a terrible blank and the first thought was another bout of amnesia. Gods, what memories did he loose this time? Who and what did he forget?

_Voodoo?_ Isolation tore at him. Did anyone know he was here?

Several undecided moments flitted by in a silence only outer-space could match. Unfamiliar surroundings told Scott no one was nearby. How long was he unconscious?

More uncalculated time passed along before Kyle decided to push himself over. The bottom side of two large backless chairs and a high domed ceiling filled his vision. Light circled the top and corners of the room rather than dropping directly from the ceiling. The constant hum of circulating air vibrated in the background, alleviating only a little silence.

Kyle felt like a rat abandoned in an old science lab where all the workers had already left for a holiday, forgetting to water and feed their subject.

He tried to swallow, but his mouth, dried by several hours without water, could do nothing. Slowly Doctor Scott forced himself to sit. His aching body complained, his muscles strained to obey his will. The world spun and tilted and he closed his eyes, trying to ignore pain. All he wanted to do was find his own bed and collapse.

Where was Voodoo?

Kyle waited another minute for his eyes to adjust. The surroundings consisted of control stations, metal walls, and wall panels all made of the same strange watery surface as the control panel hovering over him.

Then he found Steve.

Kyle crawled along the metal flooring and sat on his knees beside his friend. At first he had no idea what to do, where to start. Then he remembered his hand scanner. He pulled that from subspace first and waved it in the air. The scanner said the air was clean and breathable. There was no sign of pathogens or detectable airborne viruses.

He lowered over Steve's crumpled form and carefully turned Parker on his back. Kyle deactivated Steve's helmet and passed the scanner over him. He gently wiped blood from Steve's ears and sighed in despair. There was no telling what damage the dog-beast did to Steve. No telling how much it devoured. Kyle made a pillow of his coat and carefully tucked it under Steve's head while he checked his friend. Fresh blood slowly leaked from Parker's ears and it took everything Scott had to keep concentrating.

Steve responded to no stimulation.

Kyle finally sat back, defeated. Anger touched him. This journey was meant for him alone. He came here to find a weapon and instead, his friends were paying a terrible price because he couldn't be more cautious about his plans! This was a one-way ticket and they insisted on coming! Worse still Voodoo was unwilling to communicate with him. Kyle felt himself slowly wither inside. Where was Voodoo? Why was he so mad? Why won't he talk? At least, Kyle assumed Voodoo was angry. He really had nothing to prove Voodoo was. But the lack of presence left him empty and alone.

And even with Steve there, Kyle felt horribly secluded. He forced himself to his feet, pacing the room. He could do nothing else for Steve at this point. He knew even the technology at Medbay was incapable of helping his friend.

Kyle bowed his head. He didn't want any of them to go through this! No one deserved what he went through and he told Steve . . .

Kyle fussed indecisively. He knew he had to force himself to move on, no matter how horrible he felt. Then he berated himself. He needed to get out of there and what was he doing? Moping about like a child! Kyle stared at the anti-grav light and wondered how long it would continue to function. He had forgotten all about the portable lights until Steve used his. Kyle was tempted to pull all the items out of whatever other subspace pockets he had just to see what all he owned. So far everything he had produced he did so through 'automatic memory'-Voodoo's memory. The whole ordeal was frustrating because he knew he should remember. It was like catching a spec of dust in the wind. It was there, but grasping it with bare hands was impossible.

Kyle paced. His dark eyes scanned aimlessly around the room, flitting from one strange little control station to another. He took more time staring at the water-like monoliths standing fast against the walls. This was technology far above and beyond anything he could remember seeing. No wonder Chenobian governments demanded knowledge regarding crystal technology! Nick would have a hay-day here.

But with all the weird and fascinating technology around him, Kyle did not see one door in or out of the room. There was the elevator shaft, certainly. But that could not be the only way on or off the bridge.

Kyle circled the room twice, examining each water-like monolith. Then two-and-two snapped together like a pair of magnets: perhaps the monoliths WERE the doors!

Kyle glided his fingertips over the watery surface, watching in fascination as a rippling effect bounced from his finger points to the edges, never bouncing back. The panels were soft and pliable when he just touched them, but when Kyle pounded into the surface with a fist, it resisted the exertion just as though it were made of metal. Scott tapped it with his index finger and memory of the dog-beast shot swift and cold. Kyle blinked.

That's right, it possessed him! Was that why he had passed out? Why was he on the floor? What did that thing do to him? Kyle gazed back at the control panel under which he woke. A small puddle of drying blood marked the spot where he lay. Kyle touched his left temple and brought back his hand. The fingers glistened with fresh blood. No memories came to mind.

He frowned. There were other problems needing attention. He tapped the watery door again. Ripples of soft reds and purples pricked and faded as they skipped over the surface. Kyle tapped it again and this time recalled the creature had placed his fingers in the ripples themselves.

Could it really be that easy?

Kyle tapped the monolith once more and set his fingers along the ripples to the right as they faded.

The monolith graciously split apart, revealing a long dark hallway. Kyle flinched, wondering how long the doorway would stay open. He turned to Steve, half lifting his friend and levering his own frame, unsure how much weight the armor could take.

Steve moaned as Kyle lifted him in a sitting position. He whimpered Midnight's name in a weak, plaintive voice and faintly wept like a lost child. Kyle drew the coat over Steve, hushing him softly. He supported Steve's back with one hand, tucking his other hand under Parker's knees and to his surprise, Kyle lifted Steve with no more difficulty than if Steve were a child.

The moment his feet touched the adjoining pathway, the door milked back together and blue light trailed ahead of him, snaking down a long corridor. The air was just as cold and dusty here and Kyle did not know if the creature did that on purpose, or if that was the way the ship was designed.

In dead silence Kyle strayed for an undetermined amount of time. He carried Steve until his knees folded under him and he nearly dropped Parker. Kyle finally yielded to his exhaustive state and collapsed against the wall behind him. He didn't dare fall asleep, although nothing moved in the ship. There came no end to the corridor. It stretched onward for miles and Kyle hoped it was leading to an exit of some kind.

A map would be a wonderful thing right now. He had thought about seeking a control panel and searching for such a thing, but he barely understood how to open the door let alone use the long band of water-like controls that lined the hallway walls.

Another thought touched him: Beth and her team never made it this far. They never made it past the initial room.

Kyle tried to recall everything they had found up till now. Nine spaceships had been located across the planet, or so it was said. Beth had discovered many, many cities. The Chenobians were a hybrid species. Was the alien influence slowly being bred out after all this time?

There was the government demand for any crystal technology Beth might have encountered. There were scant notes about strange diseases wiping out most of the population from time to time. Something, some part of the story was missing.

The frightful vision he had earlier shot into Kyle's mind. The splattered blood dripped and formed a symbol.

He realized now they murdered his mother.

They murdered her right in front of his eyes. He watched as they sliced her body on one side, then the other. She screamed with her eyes, never uttering a single sound. She fell to her knees and mouthed 'I love you' before they sliced into her head.

Kyle could not even cry. And it was the last thing he remembered before falling asleep.

Steve woke drowned in darkness. A long trail of soft blue light filtered through the dead silence, unveiling a long corridor that stretched far beyond eyesight. Cold air burned the back of his throat and hurt his face. His head rested on a metal pillow and when he moved his right arm, he realized he was sleeping on his left side. Something heavy draped over his body, pinning him down. a long heavy blanket covered him, giving the impression that he might be dead. A figure lay behind him and at first Parker thought he was laying next to a corpse. He turned just slightly and realized it was Kyle who slept soundly beside him, and it was Kyle's arm his head rested on and Kyle's coat that covered him. And Kyle's other arm rested over him.

At first Steve felt silly finding himself sleeping in someone else's arms. Then he realized Scott did what he could to take care of Steve, even if it meant holding him while they slept. Captain Parker settled back down, not wanting to disturb Kyle's sleep. He about drifted off when he thought he saw something pass along the metal plates and shadows of the walls. It came then went, leaving no trace. Steve's first instinct was to seek it out and destroy it, do whatever it took to protect Kyle. He waited, reaching out as far as he could with his senses, hoping he would not see it again.

Monsters in the dark, he thought.

Steve still wished he had used a tranquilizer on Kyle and called for someone to come pick them up. Inwardly, he smiled-albeit grimly. In a small way, this little expedition was kinda fun. They hadn't really done anything like this in decades and now, they might well all loose their lives. Why hadn't they taken the time to do more things together? Had they all really been that busy? Steve decided that was going to change. They needed to grow together, to trust and rely on one another. He trusted Kyle with his life, and yet as well as he knew the man, Steve realized he and Kyle never really spent a lot of time together. Steve wondered if Kyle ever spent time with anyone outside his work.

Doubtful, Parker thought darkly. It was time to change things. The war was long since over and they still hadn't changed their behaviors. Cathy and Jeff had formed a relationship. Shan and Nick . . . Steve's face twisted in puzzlement. Wasn't he missing someone? Wasn't there someone else and if so, who? Steve searched his memory for several long moments and found himself coming across gaps. What was missing? What had happened to him?

And that led to another thought: what the hell were he and Kyle doing in a corridor?

Parker was half tempted to wake Kyle and ask. But he firmly squelched the desire. He didn't want to wake Kyle. Instead, Steve settled back into Kyle's arms and vowed to include Kyle in the rest of his life.

A rush of cold dust-ridden air filled Parker's lungs and he coughed before consciousness called him from dreamland. He sat up and coughed again, his throat painfully dry. The coat fell from him and he heard Kyle moan.

A burden leadened Steve's heart and he bowed over, fighting the temptation to just lie down and remain there. The oppressive darkness threatened to crowd out whatever amount of optimism he had left.

Mid? 

For the first time in years, Steve was met with a shield. He stared into the empty blackness before him with unseen puzzlement. That wasn't like Midnight.

Didn't Kyle complain of Voodoo keeping a shield between them earlier? Steve turned right and found Kyle's form washed by the soft blue light. Kyle had simply rolled to his right, knees brought tightly in. Steve drew another cold breath to say something but he coughed again. The dust was worse than he thought. He drew a bottle of water from subspace and drank as little as he dared.

"Kyle." Although he spoke softly his voice boomed over the terrible silence.

No response.

"Kyle?"

Parker waited three beats and forced himself to stand. His head tipped and fell and he nearly lost his balance were it not for the wall. He waited for his body to fight back its strength. His chest hurt. His head hurt and he felt weak all over. He willed himself to move and he stepped over Kyle's inert form and knelt. "Kyle, what's wrong?"

Scott knew he had to pull himself up and move on. His heart traveled in a greater darkness than the trap they were in. He saw things . . . faces and witnessed terrible events. The sounds of millions dying, the cries of women as they gave birth to misshapen children. His rational side fought fiercely for control, his emotions battling to react to the visions passing through his mind.

His training conquered the moment and he managed to pull himself up and against the wall. But all he could do from there was stare into nothing.

Steve dragged himself closer and tried to read Kyle's face in the dark. Kyle was always silent. But unresponsive usually meant something was wrong. "Kyle." He called again, "What's wrong?"

"I saw it, Steve. I remembered."

His voice came only a little louder than a whisper. Steve clenched his jaw. "What?" He asked softly. "What did you see?"

"I saw her die. I remembered how my mother died. They killed her, Steve. They sliced her up right in front of me." Kyle's emotions won this round and he could not stop the tears. The picture played over and over in his mind; the weapons, the blood splattered wall.

Steve looked very confused. "Kyle . . . you told me your folks died of natural causes. And that was a very long time ago. How could you have remembered an event Voodoo didn't recall?"

"I was there!" Kyle softly insisted. "I was there. They sliced her to pieces in front of me-"

"Who are 'they,' Kyle?" Steve asked carefully.

Scott was ready to refute any objections Parker had regarding his memory, but Steve's question threw him off. He never thought of that. He concentrated, trying to conjure the memory under more rational control. Then Kyle used his photographic memory to recall every detail, every part of the dream, the feel of the spring-day air, the corrosive smell of death and distant fires as cities burned one by one. He counted other dead family members: cousins, two aunts, three . . . sisters.

And his rational mind put all his distress at ease. Kyle was an only child. He relaxed and put his trust in Steve's endless patience. "Ever since the library incident, I've had this vision that keeps returning. Something about blood splashing a wall. It happened again when we descended the excavation site for the first time."

"That was with Kayla?" Steve asked carefully.

"Yes. And I had it again later, but . . . I can't remember when it happened." Kyle gazed left, struggling to regain his missing time. All he could recall was waking to find himself on the floor. But he could not remember why.

Steve drew closer and laid a hand on Kyle's. "Kyle," he called gently. "Tell me everything. Tell me everything you can remember. It might be a clue. It might give us some insight."

Kyle blinked and slowly nodded. He drew a deep cold breath, wishing he had something to drink. "Uhm, I'm ten years old. These people came . . . aliens. They pulled us all out of the castle and started killing all the servants. Then they . . ." he paused a moment, struggling to recall more. Kyle shook his head. "The city is burning, Steve. I can smell it in the air. There are dead bodies everywhere and the creatures move so fast and-" Kyle struggled to keep up with the thoughts and emotions. The images flitted by so fast. The corners of his mouth tightened. "I remember they used swords and they forced her down on her knees and they just started to cut her to pieces right in front of me and her blood splattered the wall and-" he couldn't continue. Kyle's breath came ragged from overwhelming emotions.

Steve affectionately squeezed Kyle's upper arm. "Okay." He whispered. "It does seem to be more than just a dream, wouldn't you say?"

Kyle gazed at him and weakly shrugged.

Steve fell silent a moment, allowing Kyle time to gain his composure. "What were the creatures like, Kyle?" He softly asked again.

Kyle concentrated. "They were dark. Biped. In fact, Steve, I think they were the very ones I dissected earlier."

Steve thought it over, wondering how this vision reached his friend. Maybe . . . maybe Kyle was possessed? Could that be true? Could it be possible? Is that what Parker saw that morning when he found Kyle sitting on the cliffside with the journal?

Then another question came to mind: "Kyle, did D'Chlavic mention anything about bad dreams or visions in her journal?"

Kyle slowly shook his head. "I hadn't read the whole journal yet, Steve. I don't know."

Steve shook his head and looked annoyed, but it did not translate through the darkness. "You know, Kyle, I really should have just chained you to your quarters."

He could just barely see his remark earned a weary smile from the doctor.

"So . . ." Parker added after a long moment's pause, "where are we?" Steve glanced down one dark end of the tunnel to the other. "Kyle?"

"Yes."

"Did you . . . carry me all that way?"

"Yes, Steve."

"And how far is that?"

Kyle shrugged. "I don't know. Hours."

Silence dropped between them again. Steve marveled at Kyle's resilience. In two moves, he sat against the wall next to Kyle and tried to read Kyle's expression in their little lightless world. "That's amazing." He said quietly.

Kyle smiled grimly, but did not make eye contact. He longed for light and water and something to eat. He longed to just get back home. "You know, I was so upset when Voodoo showed me all the photographs in my house. Faces of people I was supposed to know were just faces, just strangers. It's like waking up in a completely different universe. Heh, Voodoo was so mad when I told him I was going to go back to work at Medbay part-time."

"He's annoyed with your obsession over work." Parker confirmed quietly. "I know it's hard to believe, Kyle, but sometimes, Voodoo just wants you to himself."

"He did say that he wanted to take me to Alean."

Steve fell quiet a moment, carefully choosing his words. "Would you go if he asked you again?"

"I think so." Kyle responded in his usual quiet voice.

"You'll like Alean." Steve smiled a little. "It has some real weather patterns. Earth storms can't hold candles to Alean's storms. Even the Sentinels can't fly in those high winds."

Kyle's smile died. "Sounds great." He answered unenthusiastically.

Steve sighed, wishing he could say or do something to cheer Kyle's downed spirit. "Well, how about we try moving on? Are you up to it?"

"Are you?" Kyle asked in turn. He didn't care one way or the other, if he were to be honest with himself. He moved on only because of Steve.

"For a while." Parker replied with an inward shrug. He really wasn't up to anything. Weariness called him to lie down and sleep his pain off.

Kyle shut every complaint out of his mind and forced himself to his feet. The rest did him a great deal of good and he helped Steve to stand. He swept up his coat and waited to see if his friend could move on his own.

Steve proved he could not walk without leaning against the wall and Kyle moved in, gently pulling Steve's arm across his shoulders. "Should have left you home." Doctor Scott muttered.

"Keep it up, Kyle." Steve mockingly warned. "I have a tranquilizer handy when I need it."

"You do not." Kyle argued. And they pressed forward.

"Wanna bet?" Parker dared.

Kayla and Jill examined the ravine until it grew dark. More and more drawings scrawled over walls appeared with every turn. But the ladies found the further north-east they traveled in the ravine, the more erratic and less coherent the artwork became. The text accompanying the pictures became sparse, the letters grew in size and Jill started having trouble translating the language.

"I don't know." She moaned. Most of this is gibberish."

"What's that?" Kayla asked. The light began to dim and she searched for a reasonable place to stay.

"Well, the words go into ellipsis, that is to say the language turns into a series of nouns and verbs. 'He poisoned.' Or 'They . . .' I don't even know what that word is. It's not translatable."

Kayla scanned the canyon as the sun sunk far beyond the plateau. She recalled her helmet from subspace and activated the night vision. "This place gives me the creeps. It's like something is staring at us from the grave."

Jill snapped her equipment shut and activated her helmet. She led Kayla back to their landing point. All the information swirled in her head; a jumble of phrases and words. "You know, what I'd like to know is what really took place here. Why wasn't this place mentioned in the journal? Or if D'Chlavic did mention it, it wasn't in any place I read. What about that junked equipment we passed?"

Kayla sighed. They had been going all day and as tired as she was, she did not want to sleep, fearing they might miss Kyle and Steve. "I'll take first watch." She said in turn.

Jill gave her friend a cursory glance. Kayla was less concerned about the ravine than their safety. And, naturally, with good reason. McKennan smiled warmly. "How about a nice fire and a little food?"

Kayla would rather have left her helmet activated, but nodded in agreement just the same.

They managed to scrounge together dead brush and tumble weeds. Jill examined a couple pieces of abandoned machinery along the way. They were ancient, rusted beyond use. But she found they must have been similar to her own recording equipment. After lighting the campfire, McKennan hauled one such hunk of junk toward the fire and grinned at Kayla.

"Like to look at a piece of Chenobian history?" She asked.

"What is it?"

"Don't know." McKennan produced a small box of handy tools and applied a light anti-corrosive spray to her project. She waited while the rust bled away from seams and openings. Kayla's gaze drifted from the equipment and the fire to the walls around them.

Some drawings seemed to glow in the firelight. Dark colors illuminated with a strange phosphorus reflection. While Jill cleaned and undid the outer casing of the machine, Kayla took to her feet and peered more closely at the walls. Tiny marks not visible in the daylight presented themselves in the form of clawmarks. And as though their little fire encouraged a bit of magic through the ravine, Kayla noticed how little by little more and more of the claw-marks opened. She cautiously fingered one mark. It lay over the rocky surface as though the walls were wounded. Silently the empath called her helmet from subspace for examination in night-vision.

Nothing. It wasn't there.

Kayla switched to light radiation frequencies.

Nothing there, either.

She switched her visor again to ultraviolet and found the very things she was staring at through the fire.

How? Why? Fire was a thermodynamic light medium. How was it that she was seeing these 'cuts' through ultraviolet light? What were they?

"Oh Primus." Jill swore softly. She attained her friend's attention and Kayla snapped back her helmet and returned to the campfire while McKennan tossed the empty casing off her new toy. A complex recording mechanism stood cold and unusable in the flickering firelight. "This thing utilized crystal technology, Kay."

Kayla blinked. "Why wasn't it retrieved?"

Jill opened a fissure and carefully tugged at a thin metal plate. She flipped it one way then another. "You know, judging by the looks of things here, I'd dare say someone just dropped it and fled. They didn't think about retrieving their data."

"Do you think it might have something to do with the slits in the walls?" Kayla asked.

"What slits?" Jill's eyes snapped from the 'toy' to Kayla.

Kayla nodded toward the wall behind McKennan. Jill turned and lowered the machine carefully. She approached the wall and stared at the drawings and text, not seeing what Kayla described. Jill shook her head. "I don't see anything."

"Set your visor on UV. You'll see it there."

Jill complied and softly gasped. "What the hell?" She fingered one slit then produced a pick and screwdriver. She carefully set the pick inside, hoping some weird animal won't come out and attack them.

Nothing happened. She applied a pen light and tried to peer in but still saw and found nothing. She stood straight and turned to Kayla. "I'm willing to bet the whole ravine is just like this."

Kayla swept up a small log as a brand. "Wanna find out?"

Before Jill could answer, the click and resounding thud of machines snapped and whirred under the rocks and dirt around them. Jill called her helmet back, preferring to see what they were facing with her own eyes. Kayla's eyes swept around them, always returning to the nearby cave. She wanted to investigate that but from the sounds, she would rather wait until morning.

"Shit." Jill swore. "I hope I didn't set something off."

The ravine echoed in hisses from one end to the other as the holes in the rock walls spewed huge amounts of dust particles followed by a gaseous fume that blotted out the firelight and sprinkled the ground in tiny drops. Kayla and Jill crumbled to unconsciousness as a cloudy white mist filled the ravine bottom to top.

"Tennnnnt . . . chi . . . Tentchi!"

Steve opened his eyes and gazed right. Not more than a few minutes ago, Kyle very nearly fell in exhaustion. Steve suggested they sleep just for a little while. He himself was not that tired. His shoulder ached his mind spun, restless with urgency.

Something called to him in a tiny soft voice. Across the way, the wall moved as a liquid figure rushed along its dark surface. It paused and its fluid movements pointed onward. Steve could not tell if he were hallucinating or not. He sat up and found Kyle soundly sleeping. Scott shuddered in his sleep, his right arm twitched.

"Kyle." Parker softly called. "Kyle, wake up."

Kyle moaned, annoyed and sick. He stirred, bringing his knees closer to his body.

"Kyle!" Steve called again.

"Steve?"

"We need to get out of here."

"Do you want me to be cranky?"

"No."

"Then let me sleep."

The 'liquid figure' caught Parker's attention again. He slammed his eyes shut then opened them again. It was still there. Steve was torn between the urgency to move on and allowing his friend much-needed rest. He himself was far too weak to even consider carrying Kyle, if that's what he had to do. He propped his back against the wall and watched as the figure danced and slipped down the hallway, always returning.

Eventually Parker's head drooped and he fought sleep until he decided a few minute's rest couldn't hurt. His aching shoulder pressed pain down his left side and for a long while, Steve didn't remember much else.

Terrible cold sank into him and Steve woke with a start. He huffed freezing air and shuddered. His eyes shot wide and he glanced everywhere, searching the unfamiliar surroundings. The corridor had not changed. The darkness had not changed. And Kyle was still soundly asleep.

But the liquid figure trapped in the wall in front of him had not left. It leapt for his attention and pointed onward in an urgency Steve could not mistaken. Steve turned right and laid a hand on Kyle's face. Kyle suffered from a fever and waking him would make him very irritable. Steve forced himself to Kyle's side and gently shook him.

With great effort, Kyle managed to open his eyes. He was cold and hot and moving cost too much energy.

"Kyle?" Steve's voice filled the thick silence and Kyle was glad to hear something other than his own heartbeat. "Kyle, get up. We need to move on."

At first, Kyle thought about telling Steve to just move on without him. But his rational mind told him Parker would never do such a thing-both or neither. That was the policy. Doctor Scott shuddered silently and slowly forced himself to sit up. He thought Steve was going to rush him, but Steve said nothing, allowing Kyle the time he needed to regain his balance.

Several dead moments passed along and neither Tentchi said anything to the other. This was it. It had to be it. They either made it out, or died trying.

Kyle staggered to his feet, his eyes finding nothing but the blue light ever guiding them along. He waited for Steve who also stumbled and turned up on Kyle's left hand side. His eyes sought Kyle's expression, finding a disturbed resignation. Parker about took on some of Kyle's weight to help him along but Kyle shook his head.

"No, I can walk, Steve." The same despair that touched his eyes filled his voice and Captain Parker's own heart sank. Kyle still insisted on fighting alone. He laid a silent hand on Kyle's shoulder and they pressed forward.

The oppressive darkness shut out all conversation between them. Steve said nothing of the strange liquid figure swimming in the wall beside them. It flowed eerily, as soundless as Kyle's demeanor. Steve kept glancing to the right, first at the liquid figure, then at Kyle.

Dead end.

Kyle and Steve stared at the wall. They said nothing for agonizing moments. No words could convey the terrible truth before them. They were hopelessly lost and no way out-

Except. . .

Except . . .

Steve gazed to his right, searching for the liquid figure. And it came through for him, proving it was not a hallucination after all. It slid from the side wall, to the front and swam around a square panel. Parker glanced at Kyle who said and did nothing. He stepped in front of his friend and examined the square panel.

A huge sharp freezing needle sank into his left shoulder and Steve hissed inward, sinking to his knees. He leaned against the wall and squeezed his eyes tight. "Kyle." He called. "I think this is it. I think we can get out-but . . . I can't read the panel."

No response.

"Kyle!"

Kyle was a million miles away. His heart hurt more than his body. He felt filthy; a demon squirmed inside him and drank his blood. It laughed at him and tears stung his dusty-dry eyes. "It's eating me alive." He barely whispered. "I'm sorry." His lips trembled. He was so sorry for Voodoo. He was so sorry for Steve. He let them both down.

'To do no harm. To endanger no life. To respect and uphold and praise . . . to put another life before my own.' that was the oath he had taken and now it lay in pieces at his feet.

"Kyle?" Pain crippled Steve's ability to stand. He reached up and grasped Kyle's left hand, hoping to shake his friend out of whatever sorcery affected Scott. But the moment he touched Kyle a flash of darkness passed over him and through him and for a moment, Steve felt something invade his link. But it passed harmlessly and he blinked. "Kyle?" He called again. Slowly Doctor Scott turned to him, but it was like someone who sleep-walked. "The panel." He insisted.

NO YOU DON'T. Something else said in the back of his head. Kyle almost agreed.

YOU DON'T HAVE TO DO EVERYTHING HE SAYS. JUST STAY. LET ME LOVE YOU.

Kyle blinked. Voodoo loves me too, he told himself. Then he narrowed his eyes, realizing what was going on. With what shred of will he had left, Kyle forced himself down and studied the panel in the dark.

Steve broke out in a sweat. The pain in his shoulder ebbed down his legs and he rested his head against the wall. "Please don't say it's DNA-activated." He begged.

But honestly, Kyle could not make anything out of it. He saw a pad of twelve symbols and other buttons and levers. The corners of his mouth tightened and he squeezed Steve's hand.

The monster was charging straight down the hall. He could feel it screaming for him.

So he took a wild guess and punched in a sequence of numbers.

Wrong.

He tried another sequence.

Wrong.

One more time-and this time, with a little more thought to it.

A clang thundered down the hall and pressured air flushed hard between the corridor and whatever else lay on the other side of the door.

The beast's voice blasted with the cry of a million screams, all of them pounded into Kyle's mind and he fell forward, holding his head. The great wall lifted and he and Steve lost their balance and dropped seven feet from the corridor. Their armor contacted solid ground, knocking the wind out of their lungs. The beast stopped just shy of the ravine and howled in contempt of its failure. It did not fail because it could not chase its prey into the ravine. It failed because three Cybertronian jets landed into the mist-filled crevice and transformed into creatures it could not touch. The beast retreated back to its haunt.

Steve blinked, took one breath and passed out cold.

To Be Continued in Part 3

T.L. Arens


	3. Chapter 3

TRANSFORMERS:

Sentinel Arc: Bad Dreams

Part 3

Midnight sat through the dull meeting with the long-winded Nagk ambassador. His mind, far from the obese ambassador's self-imposed exaltations, focused on more consequential matters. Mid mused over Kyle and Voodoo. He only heard half the meeting, grateful Optimus and Roddy did not prod him for input.

Rodimus and Optimus Prime listened patiently to the ambassador's tiresome, thick dialect. Nagk business dealers were accused of hijacking a supply shipment to Nra'anou, in the Vega system. But the Nagk insisted they were nowhere near the area during the supposed attack.

Rodimus leaned back, arms folded. He wasn't buying their alibi. He gazed at Prime and could tell Optimus wasn't swallowing it either. But Optimus remained perfectly quiet until they heard the entire story.

Midnight's thoughts meandered between the meeting and Steve. Mid wasn't exactly crazy over the second trip to Chenobis. Steve insisted it was necessary to find exactly where the monsters originated; to get them off Kyle's backside. Midnight warned him against staying overnight. Of course, Parker took his partner's objection lightly, promising to be back home in a few hours.

That was several hours ago.

Something emotionally distressing happened, or as much as Midnight could tell through the link between he and Steve. Steve wouldn't say, even when Mid gently prodded. He knew, however, that Steve was struggling to cope with the pain in his shoulder. He probably should not have gone after all. Kyle really was in no condition to be doing much of anything, let alone travel.

And that was the other thing that Midnight mused over. The doctor wasn't himself, no matter what Steve insisted. Kyle wasn't an emotional sort, or at least from what Midnight knew of him. Of course, his interactions with Kyle usually occurred at Medbay during short, to-the-point information spurts and mostly whenever Steve was in trouble. Other than that, Mid heard more about Kyle than he cared to from Voodoo, usually in the form of complaints. But of late, Voodoo said very little. At first Midnight thought it was nice not to hear the air warrior mew like a churbinese cat in heat. But when Steve said Kyle complained of Voodoo's shields, Mid became very concerned.

Midnight turned back to the meeting, listening to the ambassador's endless droning.

". . . But if the negotiations continue on this route, I insist we move the conference from Cybertron to a more neutral setting. I will not be coerced on terms I know nothing of." The ambassador snorted. Midnight realized the Nagk was staring in his direction. He sat up, trying to pretend to be interested. "What about Doy'nu?" He suggested. "There's nothing on there but rocks and gasses.

"Doy'nu is a filthy place. I can hardly stand it here. We are a clean, unsoiled people, Sentinel."

Midnight's green visor turned to the two Autobot leaders. Optimus remained impassive. Roddy shrugged.

"Emright is nothing but rock." Midnight tried again. "All we'd have to do-"

"Emright is good enough a place." The ambassador purred. "It is far away, but a good place. You bring the tables." And he stood without excusing himself and left the room.

Midnight shook his head.

Rodimus turned to Prime. "Should we bring feather dusters with us, too?"

Prime smiled with his optics. "I don't use feather dusters." He said levelly. "Canned air is the thing-"

Rodimus laughed before Prime finished his sentence.

Mid appreciated the light moment but Steve called his attention and he stood. "I have to go." He announced. "Steve wants to talk."

The two Autobots turned to him politely. "They've left for Chenobis already?" Rodimus asked.

"Yeah. I'll tell you about it later." Midnight exited and the two Primes waited until the door closed.

Optimus turned to his Second. "What's going on?"

Roddy shrugged. "All I've gotten from Midnight at this point is 'Kyle and Voodoo!" And he crossed his arms, his features imitated Midnight in a bad mood.

Prime was inclined to laugh, but did not. "That explains everything."

Rodimus relaxed and smiled. "Yup."

Midnight made his way outside, staring from the balcony six stories down.

_You gotta see this museum._ Steve reported. _It's huge and creepy and this receptionist . . . she makes the Argons look like innocent bystanders._

_How is Kyle doing?_ Midnight asked.

_So far so good. We're waiting to talk to this Shindriks moron-it seems everyone here is rude. _

Midnight nodded. _When do you want me to pick you up?_

Steve hesitated a moment or more. _ Give us enough time to find out what to do. Mmm . . . give us about eight more hours._

Midnight's visor flashed a moment and he frowned. _Steve, no over-night stays. And don't argue with me about it. Even if you have to knock Scott-_

_ I know._ Steve replied. _Don't worry. If Kyle gives me trouble of any kind at any time, I have a tranquilizer handy._

Midnight softly laughed and stared outward. He sent his friend a warm feeling, surrounding Steve with affection.

Several hours later, Midnight sat at his desk pouring over order and request forms from several departments regarding the South Continent. Some areas were already underway as far as restoration was concerned, but for the most part, South Continent was far from habitable. Much of that was due to serious radiation leaks which resulted in poisoned air. It would most likely take centuries to rebuild South Continent. Time and expense seemed almost prohibitive at this point. Mid's visaphone bleeped quietly. He frowned and laid the report on a stack of many others. He pressed the acceptance button.

"Yeah." He grunted.

"Hi." Skywolf greeted. "I think you should come to Medbay."

"What's wrong now?" Mid growled.

"Uhm, those alien representatives that were supposed to just visit for a while?"

"Yeah?"

"They may be here for a few days. Spellbinder is in for treatment. I told him I'd not say anything."

"Fight?"

"Yes."

"Bad?"

"Voodoo?"

Midnight's green visor flashed brightly. "I'm coming."

Midnight stood in the doorway, arms crossed while Chaos applied a fresh solvent to a slight injury over Voodoo's shoulder joint. Spellbinder laid on a nearby flat, parts of his right arm twitched while a mechanical arm slowly put them back together.

"What's this?" Midnight asked in his authoritative voice. "Wolf says you two got into a fight with the Nagk."

"Not my fault." Voodoo muttered.

"Really?" Mid threw him a look of disbelief. He never knew a fight Voodoo was involved in that he didn't start.

"He's telling the truth." Spellbinder defended. "V didn't throw the first punch."

"Miraculous." Mid snorted. "Then who did?"

"Phoenix." The two Sentinels chorused.

Midnight's glance jumped from one Sentinel to the other in silent skepticism. "You two just happened to be in the area when she picked a fight." He assumed.

"Well, no." Voodoo couldn't look him in the eye. "I picked the fight."

"But you just said Phoenix started the fight."

"Phoenix threw the first punch. I picked the fight."

Midnight approached the brashest member of his people. "And what did you do, Voodoo, to cause the fight?"

"Well, they weren't exactly the greatest-"

"Voodoo." Midnight interrupted. "Just answer the question."

"They said a lot of things that upset me."

Spellbinder groaned from his corner of the room-and not from the pain in his arm.

"Spell?" Mid called. "Wanna translate that?"

"Well, Voodoo was right. They were saying a lot of mean things. Voodoo just . . . said a lot of things back, that's all."

"That's right." Voodoo agreed. "I had a right to defend my home, Alean or Cybertron. The Nagk might be a bunch of sterile-obsessed freaks, but that gives them no right-"

"What did you call them?" Midnight sharply interrupted.

" . . . Sterile-obsessed . . . freaks." Voodoo knew he was in trouble.

"Voodoo, these people, whatever they might be, are our guests and they should be-"

"I don't like to be called a grease-infested glop of excrement." Voodoo snarled. "I am a Transformer and I deserve as much respect as they."

Midnight secretly agreed. But the methods to which Voodoo resorted was not the answer. "Look, we are trying to be good neighbors-"

"How pathetic." Phoenix's voice filtered in from the doorway. All three mechs turned to her and she smiled leisurely. "Imagine, two perfectly good warriors beaten down by a group of fleshlings in nothing but exo-suits."

"Things would have been just fine if you hadn't come along." Voodoo snarled.

"Ah-hu. What about that little right-flank surprise? You know, you might have gotten off easy with the first insult if you hadn't called them 'subcreatures', Voodoo."

The corners of Voodoo's mouth tightened when Mid shot him a dirty look. He was really in for it, now that Midnight crossed his arms again.

"What ELSE did you call them, Voodoo?" Mid quietly asked.

Voodoo hesitated, wishing his leader hadn't asked. "Aft-kissers." He couldn't look Mid in the optics.

"Well . . . they didn't know what that meant." He answered crossly. "And when they called us a grease-infested glops of excrement, I got mad."

"So you insulted them first and they got back at you." Mid surmised.

"Yes. No!" Voodoo corrected himself.

"Which is it, Voodoo?"

"What?"

"Yes or no?" Midnight growled. "Did you or did you not throw the first insults?"

Voodoo thought hard . . . "I don't remember."

"I came in after he called them 'aft-kissers." Phoenix added.

Midnight threw his hands in the air. He swung and pointed at Spellbinder. "And how do you fit into all this?"

"I was just there on a break." Spellbinder answered innocently.

"So you got pulled into the fight." Mid assumed.

"Well . . . no."

Phoenix couldn't hold back her smile. "He punched the guy who tried to punch me-"

Midnight held his hands out defensively. "I-I don't want to hear anything more. I'm afraid if I ask too much more about this, I will be dragged before the Council and lynched. The three of you will be reassigned for the next two weeks to flushing the sewers at Strata-Mainframe."

"What!" All three chorused.

Mid shook his head. "No, don't argue with me about this. If I were Optimus Prime, I'd come up with a punishment far worse than that. But I like to think of myself as a good guy."

Skywolf appeared behind Phoenix. "There you are!" He declared. "What are you doing out of your room again? Phoenix, if I have to drag you back to your bed one more time, I will resort to restraints!"

Phoenix smirked. "Just trying to help V and Spellbinder save face."

"Well," the old Sentinel replied instantly, "it's not worth it."

"Thanks, Wolf." Voodoo grunted.

Skywolf passed Phoenix, aiming directly for Voodoo. "I have that compound. It should help."

Midnight watched as Skywolf administered a shot of reflux fluid into Voodoo's systems. "What's that for?" He asked.

"Ordysimic link feedback." Skywolf answered simply.

"Headaches?" Midnight translated. "From the link?"

Voodoo frowned. "Kyle's kept a shield up for over twenty-four hours now. He's mad at me, but I don't know what for."

"Does he actually seem angry, or are you assuming here?"

Voodoo stared at Midnight and thought it over a little more carefully. "No." He admitted. "Kyle doesn't seem angry. But the shields are up."

Midnight stepped closer to Voodoo. "Steve said Kyle was accusing you of the same thing."

Skywolf turned and glared parentally at Phoenix when she spoke: "You think something's wrong?" Her optics caught Wolf's stare and she held up her hands. "I'm going!" She answered his expression. And limped back to her own room.

Wolf turned back to Voodoo. "You can go." He said quietly. "But only if you promise no more fights, don't phase for about twelve hours and no lifting for a while."

"Okay." Voodoo slipped off the table.

"Hey!" Spellbinder called. "You gonna leave me here just like that?"

"I'll send you a get-well card." Voodoo was hard-put to suppress a smile. Spellbinder groaned

Midnight followed Voodoo down the hall. They silently passed several personnel and a couple of Decepticons along the way. They entered the elevator, still saying nothing.

"Ground level." Voodoo requested and the elevator doors hissed shut. An awkward silence drifted between the two robots until Midnight found something to say:

"How's Kyle doing?"

"Okay." Voodoo nodded.

"That's good." He struggled to find something else to say but it was hard. "So . . . he's adjusting well enough?"

Voodoo frowned. "No." His shoulder joints sank.

Another moment of silence and then Midnight decided to hold the elevator. He turned to the air warrior, his face stern. "Voodoo, I know this whole thing has been hard on you. I know that you would prefer to solve your own problems your own way. But I think you should know that you and Kyle aren't the only ones affected by this whole situation. Kyle takes care of everybody's Interface partner, has done so since he himself was Interfaced, right?"

"The Tentchi." Voodoo's voice scarcely whispered.

"What?" Mid didn't catch it.

"Steve called them 'Tentchi."

Midnight pressed his lip components together. "There's that word again." He waited a beat. "Voodoo, I want you to remember that I want to help. If there's anything I can do or say or make happen, I want you to tell me. I want to help."

Voodoo stared at his commanding officer for a moment, considering Midnight's words carefully. He knew all he had to do was say something. He knew that. But Voodoo needed to feel he was in control of all his own problems at all times and going to someone else for help made him feel incompetent. His head raised then leveled again as his hidden optics glanced at the elevator roof, then returned to Midnight. "Wanna hear a confession?" He asked quietly.

Midnight focused silently on the other Sentinel, his face expressionless.

"It'll sound really awful." Voodoo warned. "And I know you'll probably be horrified of it."

Now concern crossed the Sentinel leader's features. He studied his companion and just listened.

"Part of me is unhappy about what happened to Kyle. He has such a hard time. It's hard for him to say anything to anybody. He doesn't want anyone to be afraid for him." Voodoo paused a moment and sadness drifted over his frame. He frowned again. "Sometimes I'll catch him crying and he'll try to cover it up. It's all gone, he tells me. And I get upset because I can't really help him. Not really."

Midnight nodded sympathetically. "Steve tells me a lot of things. He feels Kyle will be okay, though, Voodoo. Kyle is strong-"

Voodoo shook his head. "Kyle is strong in many areas, Mid. His entire world is here at Medbay. He is a god here. But outside, he's a child trying to deal with a world that is just too overwhelming. But I fear what I've done might have only added to the damage."

Midnight remained silent, unsure where Voodoo was leading him. He waited.

Voodoo couldn't look at him now. He leaned against the far wall, his arms crossed. "You know that memory-transference thing they tried a while ago?"

"Yes." Mid answered carefully.

"Well . . . not all my memories transferred."

Midnight tried to make eye contact, but could not get Voodoo to return his gaze.

"See," Voodoo's voice fell soft, "I knew what memories he has. I chose them. I . . . I wouldn't let a lot of things . . . just filter through." Voodoo shrugged in shame. "I couldn't do it, not with an opportunity like this."

Mid shook his head. "I'm sorry, Voodoo, I don't follow."

"The whole thing." Voodoo answered. "All of it. The amnesia. I thought . . ." He shrugged again and fell quiet.

Midnight waited.

"Voodoo?" He carefully called. "It's okay."

Now the Sentinel gazed at him. "You remember when Scott was found out to be Firefall's Interface partner?"

"Yes."

"Do you remember how she didn't want him to phase with her?"

"Yes."

"I thought she was a bitch. I was so mad when Kyle told me what had happened-how that poor man suffered all those years because Firefall was thinking only of herself. I was mad, Midnight because I swear I didn't think anybody could be half as mean as me. How could anybody be that mean? I'm the only person that's capable of being that mean!"

Midnight shook his head, still not sure what Voodoo was talking about.

"I was so upset about Kyle's amnesia, Mid! I thought it was going to ruin us both! I thought we were going to go back through the whole damned Acceptance stage like we did when me and Kyle first met. But I found later that I was blessed! I was blessed, Mid, with a second shot! A second chance to make things right! I took that chance, Mid. I-I was so mean! I almost killed him. I almost killed Kyle because I was angry at the Interface and when he wouldn't conform to my standards of acceptance, I hated him. I violated my responsibility as the Interface partner-the Dokiah. I was wrong! And I nearly paid for it with mine and Kyle's life. Nobody should be that mean, that cruel and insensitive. And at first, I was upset about the amnesia but then I realized that it was a gift, a way for me to start over. And I'm gonna do it. I'm going to take care of him. I'm going to be good to him. But then I turn right around and intentionally block certain memories from him, just so that he will never know, never remember the horrible pain, the anguish I put him through. Does that make me evil, Mid? Does that make me a monster? A thief?"

Midnight was blown away by this revelation. He remembered Skywolf and Thon Roque once mentioned how Kyle and Voodoo had such a rough start. They never went into detail other than to briefly mention the fighting. But . . . this? No wonder Voodoo kept mostly to himself when he had problems! Midnight smiled kindly, thinking of his relationship with Steve and how it was hard at first, but not to the degree Kyle and Voodoo suffered. Voodoo could be brutal.

Midnight was suddenly so grateful for his partner's thoughtfulness-Steve was very forgiving. Then the Sentinel leader put himself in Voodoo's position and wondered what he would do if Steve ended the same as Kyle. Midnight shook his head. "Not at all." he finally answered. "I don't think there's anything mean about it, Voodoo. You're doing the very same thing I would have done for Steve: you're protecting someone you love. How could that be evil?"

A sad smile crossed Voodoo's face.

The Nagk ambassador and his aid met with the Council again. This time Megatron, head of the Cybertronian armed forces was present. His usual caustic tones ate into the Nagk, though Megatron said nothing accusatory. He wasn't buying their alibi anymore than Roddy or Optimus.

But the Nagk glared at him. "I find your tones rather uncomfortable, Megatron." The ambassador drained his glass of 'twor' and set it firmly on the conference table.

Megatron smiled so that Rodimus shifted nervously in his seat. "Ambassador, the best result of this situation is that we've been able to investigate both sides of the conflict." Megatron's smile broadened when the Nagk's large rounded eyes narrowed so that they almost protruded from his face.

Midnight watched wearily as Megatron signaled to a guard at the door. In the next moment, a large sheet of metal was brought in. A serial number shone plainly across its surface. Laser marks and dents bruised its silvery surface. Mid only glanced at the metal and realized the council meeting was about to turn into a trial. If the wreckage was a piece of a Nra'anou vessel or a ship heading toward the planet, and if the laser marks resulted from the same laser frequencies as those used by the Nagk, the ambassador would certainly have to take home some very bad news.

And at this point, Midnight could care less who was in trouble. His shoulder ached, and instantly he realized it was Steve that was in pain. Mid debated whether or not to throw up a shield, although Steve had already set one up as a precaution. The Sentinel leader probed the link, gently inquiring if everything was okay. But all he got from his partner was concern for the doctor and puzzlement. But Steve would not say what he was doing.

An hour passed. The meeting dragged as the Nagk invented excuses and lies concerning their attack on six supply shipments to and from Nra'anou. Megatron kept dashing them to pieces either with time tables or eye witness accounts or shrewd questions.

By about the ambassador's third 'story,' Midnight jolted in his seat as a door resoundedly slammed shut. Others around him gave him a brief glance before turning back to the trial. But Mid shuddered inside. The thunderous sound resulted in a blockage in the link. Not just a shield, a blockage. He frantically called Steve, but crossed only deadly silence. Midnight inwardly gasped and searched and pressed against the blockage. Nothing. Nothing. He nearly panicked.

"I think we will take a break here." Optimus Prime sternly suggested when the Nagk's voice shrilled that he was innocent.

The room disbursed and Rodimus caught Midnight as he parted through the doorway. "Mid, what's wrong?"

"I-the link. Something's wrong."

Roddy gave him a nod toward the exit. "Go ahead and take care of it. We can handle things from here."

"Are you sure?"

Rodimus nodded. "Megatron has everything under control. We'll be fine."

Mid gripped his arms in silent gratitude and fled. He used the elevator to the next floor so he could take off from the balcony and about leapt out the moment the doors opened when a voice startled him.

"Hey! Watch it, you overgrown locomotive! I'm not an insect!"

"Oh! Shan!" Mid nearly lost his balance and caught himself by the elevator door frame. "I'm sorry!" He nearly laughed when she firmly set her hands on her hips. "You cut your hair again."

"Hello to you too! What's your hurry?"

"Steve."

"Oh." She blinked dark blue eyes. "Isn't he on Chenobis?"

"Yeah. How'd you know?"

"Nick . . ." She smiled like a cat. "When he finally left the hospital. He was a bit moody, wouldn't tell me what was up until I threatened to tie him to the shower and run ice water down his backside."

Mid stared at her for a long moment. Andrea Shanygn had a strange sense of humor.

Then Shan narrowed her large eyes. "Wait a minute . . . you're going to Chenobis, aren't you?"

At first, Mid was surprised at her guess. Then he felt a bit bashful from her tone of voice, feeling more like a school boy scrutinized by his teacher. "Yeah." He answered.

"And . . . You're going alone, aren't you?"

He thought about it, surprised that he would be so spontaneous. "Yeah." He confessed.

"Na-uh. Steve would skin you alive. I'm coming too."

Midnight tried not to smile. "To protect me?" He joked. His remark was met with a scowl. "Alright Shan. I'll wait for you."

If Shanygn was anything, she was punctual. However, she didn't come alone. Voodoo transformed on the patio, lowering her first then contacted the floor.

"What are you doing here?" Midnight asked.

"Comin' with you." Voodoo answered, ignoring Mid's sharp tone.

Mid gave him a stern look. "You're just recovering from a fight. I don't think it's a good idea to take you anywhere. You might loose your temper-"

Metal feet softly pounded the floor behind him and Mid turned to face Spellbinder. "Oh, I found you-hi, V. Mid, Kayla . . . I just talked with her and she was upset and-"

Mid looked confused. "Kayla was upset . . .?"

"Yeah and I talked with her and she said Steve and Kyle are trapped inside the spaceship and they were trying to get them-"

"What spaceship?"

"Well, they were looking at some files and there were these tanks-"

"Spell." Mid gripped his shoulders. "You're confusing me. Stop it."

Spellbinder paused a moment and regathered his thoughts. He glanced from Midnight to Voodoo and Shan then back. "You're leaving? Can I come?"

Midnight mutely nodded and turned to Shan. "Need a ride?" He asked wearily. She climbed onto his hand and he leapt off the patio lip, transformed and shot away. Voodoo copied and Spellbinder followed.

Chenobian airspace zigzagged with activity. Travelers and merchants came and left the only space station in an airless dance. The space station loomed over the planet like a guardian, its umbrella-shaped top flared out and rolled back toward its stem base, then flared out again like a flower with two heads, one standing atop the other. The very base of the station welcomed all sizes and shapes of spacecraft. Lights and signs flooded entryways and advertisement lined the walls while traffickers guided the ships in one at a time and air traffic controllers assigned them a parking space.

Midnight refused the assigned parking facility, explaining he and the other two 'ships' weren't vehicles. It took a moment for the controllers to realize they were talking to Transformers, not merchants from Zakogos IV. The Sentinels entered the main lobby, allowing Shan to go first. She softly groaned when her eyes took in the long line ahead of them. An argument broke out at the front line and the receptionist cursed the traveler in her own language. A couple of people sniggered, but Shan merely rolled her eyes and turned to Midnight.

"I hope this doesn't take long." She moaned.

"Me too." Mid concurred. "I still can't get a hold of Steve." He turned to Spellbinder who wordlessly shrugged. Mid didn't know if that meant he hadn't heard from Kayla or if things were okay. They moved forward a few steps more.

Two hours passed.

Two hours became three.

Three became four.

Finally it was their turn and Shan approached the desk, now fronted with a fresh male clerk. He stapled a series of papers together, folded a stick of chewing gum in his mouth, took a sip of water, tapped at his keyboard and finally gave his attention to Shan.

Shan wasn't in the mood to do anything less than kill someone. I can feel that clear over here. Rodimus echoed over the link. He smiled.

She reigned in her temper and decided sarcasm was the policy of the evening. "HI." She snarled sternly and loudly to retain his attention. "My FRIENDS AND I-" here she passed her hand toward the three Sentinels. "Would like PASSAGE to CHENOBIS to pick up some FRIENDS."

The clerk batted dark grey eyes at her. His light grey lips pressed into a fine line and he wordlessly tapped at the computer. Shan thought they just might get out of there and back to Cybertron in time for a descent night's sleep.

"I'm sorry." He returned deadpan. "We don't normally allow passage to Chenobis without prior government approval. You're Transformers, am I right?"

"Yes." Midnight swiftly replied. "We have friends who might be in trouble."

"I see. Well, there's no clearance. I have to get approval."

"How long will that take?" Voodoo crossed his arms.

"About three, maybe four hours. Do you know where you are going?"

Midnight thought hard for a moment. "Yes, the Amannad Museum." he did not want to mention the excavation site in case of political objections. Steve knew going to the archaeological dig might cause problems.

"Ohhh." The clerk moaned and frowned. "That's in Nore. Y-e-eea-aah. That area is usually off limits. Uhm . . . let me get a hold of someone and see what we can do. Meanwhile, you're welcome to take a seat and rest a while."

Shan glanced back at her companions. "Look, our friends might be in terrible danger. They went down to investigate the death of a woman. A friend of ours, Doctor Scott, is . . . experiencing the same symptoms-"

"I'm sorry." The clerk interrupted. "I can't give you permission without clearance. I'll be back in fifteen clicks with an answer." And he departed. Shan moaned and turned away, frustrated.

Midnight thought about gating down to Chenobis, but he could not carry all four Tentchi back with him. Besides, it would go against protocol. They could easily detect him on satellite and that might cause some kind of an uproar. Midnight did not want to cause trouble right now.

Shan took a seat near a picture window. "I guess we wait." She sighed.

Fifteen minutes. No clerk.

Half an hour. No clerk.

Two hours. No clerk.

Three hours. Shan fell asleep. She woke with a start when Spellbinder hissed inward and gripped his right arm.

"What's a matter?" Voodoo asked.

"I dunno." Spellbinder's face fell blank for a moment then he shook his head. "It's Kayla. She said it's nothing serious.

Voodoo faced Mid who shook his head, resolute to do something. "We have got to get down there." He glanced out the picture window, staring far off into space then turned back. His fists clenched. "I still can't get anything from Steve. This silence is driving me crazy."

"Try it for a few days." Voodoo dared. "You'll really go nuts."

Midnight suddenly understood Voodoo's sullen mood. Part of him was cut off. All that was left was a cold empty spot. Better than Steve being dead, he thought miserably. Anything, anything but that!

Voodoo watched as Midnight kept glancing out the window then back at them both indecisive and frustrated-a black panther caught in a beryllium cage. The Sentinel quailed slightly, wishing Mid would get away from the window! Midnight's form almost disappeared into it. His darkness swallowed by the outer blackness of space seemed to make him invisible. All Voodoo could see were the green visor over his face and the soft yellow veins on his arms and legs.

"You there, party of four?" A female called their attention and Shan jumped ahead of them, attending the desk in anticipation.

"Yes!" Her eyes widened.

"Uhm, I'm sorry, but you'll have to wait another twenty-eight hours before we can approve . . . you have no passport forms-"

Shan had to cut her off here, "We're not looking to stay. We just want permission to fly in and pick up some friends, nothing more."

The clerk shook her head. "Well, aliens of unknown stature aren't given immediate permission."

Now she lost her temper. Shan laid one hand on the counter and pointed a finger at the clerk. "Look, this whole thing started when someone on your world asked Doctor Kyle Scott to come and examine an unknown medical case. Doctor Scott was attacked and nearly lost his life. The least you people can do is help us to solve the problem. You haven't-"

"I am not going to stand here and listen to this. We will get back to you in twenty-eight hours and not before." And the clerk sternly turned and walked away. All eyes turned to Shan. She didn't care. This was a case of serious injustice. She sighed and bowed her head.

"You tried." Voodoo said softly. Midnight and Spellbinder stared at him, surprised by his kind words.

Shanygn stared at the floor and sighed in frustration. A mask of stout determination covered her face, but her eyes stabbed the floor in fury. She tried to shield Rodimus from it, but . . . shields leak. _Sorry._ she answered when Rodimus wordlessly expressed pain. She looked back at her companions. "Where there is a will, there is a way." She snarled. "And I have will. Even if I have to re-rig their entire damned computer system, we are getting down there."

Voodoo met her gaze, his face also stern. "I have an idea."

Two hours.

The lobby emptied as the long hours of planetary nightfall forced most of the staff home. There were a few workers, but most offices and private businesses were closed. Shan managed to attain a cup of coffee as they waited for the next clerk. But she soon dozed again. Midnight and Spellbinder sat on the floor against the window. Voodoo sat near the entrance, waiting in near anxiety for the next official to grace them with his presence. Voodoo inwardly swore he and Kyle were never coming back to Chenobis-even if he had to tie Kyle down to one of those hospital beds.

Oh he missed Kyle! Voodoo berated himself for not staying with his Tentchi . . . always, always, he told himself, always stay with Kyle! The fear of death hung over the Sentinel like a cloud. Or maybe not so much of death, as it was living without the Other Half of himself. Voodoo hugged himself tightly. He could not possibly live without Kyle. He would not live without Kyle. He did not know what he would do if Kyle left him. Voodoo shook his head. He wouldn't. He won't live. He didn't have to live without Kyle. Even in death, they would still be together, wouldn't they? Wasn't death just a cessation of the body? Voodoo believed as much and he embraced that belief, he wouldn't just drift off into oblivion. The Sentinel calmed down. He would be with Kyle even after death. Kyle wasn't going to leave him. Not really.

Voodoo smiled humorlessly. He didn't believe in an 'Interface Heaven' per se, but he believed there was another place, a good place somehow reserved. And he would be there with Kyle . . . he would be there with Kyle.

Footsteps pattered in his audios and the Sentinel spotted a woman making her way to the customs station. He nudged Shan's arm, silently waking her. Then he approached the desk.

"Hi." He introduced. "Uhm, is there any word about us yet?"

The woman in short light grey hair glanced at him with dark grey eyes. "You're the Transformers case, aren't you?" She asked.

"Yes. That's us."

"Yeeeaaaah." She nearly sang. "I'm sorry, we won't get any word for a while yet. Might not be for another day or two."

Voodoo wasn't interested in what she had to say. He knelt in front of her and the white and light blue patterns on his skin began to move up and down, back and forth, in and out and they caught the clerk's attention. Once her eyes were glued, Voodoo rearranged the patterns and the lines brightened and darkened from one end of the light spectrum to the other in such a manner that they tapped into the woman's subconscious.

"What's your real name?" Voodoo asked quietly, keeping his voice silky-smooth.

"Jessalyn . . ." she murmured, unable to tear her eyes off the comfortable patterns.

"Jessalyn . . . " Voodoo repeated, his voice soft, his concentration strictly on her. "Jessalyn, what are you doing today?"

"I work. And I tally numbers. Dumb stuff."

"Do you save lives, Jessalyn?"

"No. I'm just a clerk. A cluck."

Voodoo shook his head. "You're not a cluck." He objected. "Such a nice lady like you. I'm sure if you wanted to, you'd do anything to help someone else in need, now wouldn't you?"

"Sure I would." And she smiled.

"Well, Jessalyn, I'm in trouble. Could you help me?"

"Of course." And her smile broadened.

"Jessalyn, I have a friend here who needs to find her friends. Their lives are in terrible danger. Can you help her find them?"

"Oh yes. I can find anybody from here."

"That's great, Jessalyn!' Voodoo praised. "You must be really smart! And I'll bet you can ease your way through channels too, I'll bet you're a real pro, aren't you, Jessalyn?"

"Oh, sure." The clerk answered smoothly. "I know the system like the nose on my face."

"Wow!" Voodoo praised without raising his voice. "Can you find alien visitors on your world?"

"Oh, yeah. That's not a problem."

"And what if someone wanted to get a message to them? Is there a way to do that?"

"Most certainly."

"What about emergency situations? Can you . . . work something out under emergency situations?"

She smirked. "Well, there's red tape. But I can get through that. No big deal."

Voodoo nodded. "So, if someone's life was in danger, what could you do?"

"Oh, just key in the words. You know, passwords."

Voodoo nodded. "But . . . they didn't give you those passwords, did they?" He dared.

"Oh, I have them. It's just that . . . money, you know. They want to make sure someone pays . . . you know how things all work out."

"Of course! You're so right! Wow, I never thought of that." Voodoo struggled to keep his voice calm and level. He was infuriated the whole red-tape business was because the Chenobians wanted them to buy their way down!

"But, of course," He added "you're not really interested in helping anybody, I'm sure of that."

"Oh no!" The lady objected. "No! I'm good at helping people! I'd do anything to help someone else in need!"

Voodoo concentrated carefully. "I and my friend are in need, Jessalyn. See, we have a friend who might be dying, but I need to get down there to save him. Can you help us?"

"Of course." She purred and the clerk turned to her computer and tapped a series of keys. The computer emitted a series of soft sounds and a mechanical laugh then the printer kicked in and Jessalyn turned away for the moment.

Shan silently approached as Jessalyn tore the printout then handed it to Shan with a smile. Shan felt badly, knowing they had manipulated the lady into helping them. On the other hand, they were doing nothing worse than what the Chenobians were doing: profiting from their dilemma. She smiled at the lady's vacant expression and walked off to let Voodoo finish his business.

Voodoo felt badly too, though not as deeply as Shan. "Jessalyn, I'm going to let you bow your head, count to twenty-five and you can go back about your business. You will feel good for the rest of the day-no matter what happens. You can feel good about your home, your family and your job-and you know you'll get a better position in a few months."

"Okay." She answered softly. The clerk bowed her head. "One . . . two . . . three . . ."

With the printout in hand, Shan submitted it through the customs gatekeeper who promptly okayed their departure to the planet's surface. Voodoo grumbled inwardly, finally appreciating all the paperwork Optimus Prime did-he handled everything when Voodoo and Kyle first came to Chenobis. All he and Kyle had to do was land and check in. Voodoo was going to make no more planetary surprise visits, that's for sure.

The three Jets and Shan descended from the space station, aiming for the second largest landmass on Chenobis. They landed just outside Nore and Shan disembarked from Midnight. She took a cab from there and an hour and fifteen minutes later came back.

"The curator was a jerk." She grumped. "He wouldn't tell me a darned thing. But he gave me directions to the site."

"I thought you said he wouldn't tell you a darned thing." Midnight answered quietly.

"I told him if he didn't tell me something, he'd have to have a manhood replacement."

"Shan!" Midnight pretended to be surprised.

They followed the coordinates and Midnight anticipated finding the small island just the way Steve described it: a short thirty miles from the mainland and approximately a hundred and fifty miles west of Nore.

The rest of it, the basic flat structure, the three or four shelves dotting below the rest of the plateau's surface, didn't seem to fit Steve's description very well. Midnight transformed to robot mode, holding Shan in his hands while he gawked in silent shock.

Steve did not mention an immense spaceship, hidden partly by a weak cloaking device and partly by a transparent holographic projection. The dark ship seemed to waver slightly in the light, the cloaking device apparently was low on power. And while the holographic projection tried to hide the wings and tail thrusters, it failed to hide all the mounds of graves piled on the ship's topside. The ship was tilted downward, as if it had crashed hundreds of years ago. The land was slowly swallowing it, now crested with a small forest of trees and long thick grasses that covered the grave mounds. The graves themselves were networked with several other sloping, rolling hills, the difference being the hills didn't have decomposed matter intermixed with the soil.

The ship stretched between the mainland and the island (almost making the island, really) a good fifty miles across from wing tip to tip. Its body stretched about twenty-five miles across and at least thirty miles from nose to aft. Midnight shuddered.

"Oh, Primus. Look at that." He whispered to Shan.

"It's a very cozy little place, isn't' it?" All Shan saw was the island and the ocean.

Midnight thought she was being sarcastic.

The three of them zoomed down where Spellbinder spotted the carcass of a huge dinosaur-like creature. He landed first and examined it. Kayla's work, most of it. But the tail . . . why the heck did she cut the tail? Spellbinder shut off his ol factory sensors to spare him the agony of the creature's stench.

Voodoo landed nearby and took a cursory glance at the broken trees and puddles of blood. "Looks like a fight." He commented without thinking.

"Really?" Shan answered sharply when Midnight lowered her to the ground.

Spellbinder frowned. "Nobody's here. I think we're a little late on this one, Mid."

"Agreed. Steve said the site was on a cliff-side shelf dropping from the rest of the plateau west. Come on." He walked three steps, transformed and shot off. Spellbinder offered Shan a ride and Voodoo followed after scanning the open planes. The place felt eerily silent.

Mid landed on the shelf first, finding the automobiles and the one turned over. The tents stood lonely against the stolid landscape. He switched his optic sensors to thermo-radio frequencies to pick up Cybertronian-influenced signatures.

"I got footprints." He announced to his companions as they landed nearby. "Guess this is the place."

"Gives me chills." Shan frowned and entered Rychal's tent. "Looks like someone was here, unless one of our guys decided to ransack the place looking for answers."

"That must be the tent Kayla was in." Spellbinder answered. He knelt outside it as Shan examined the interior. "She said she was looking for a map, but didn't go into detail."

Midnight frowned and made a note to himself to hold a staff meeting and establish a system of protocol procedures for situations like this. They needed to establish better communication habits than this!

"There's a body over here." Voodoo announced some yards away. The other two Sentinels joined him while Shan examined the car Steve and Jill previously plundered.

"That's disgusting." Spellbinder scowled and turned away.

Voodoo shrugged. "Just a half-eaten corpse."

Midnight left them for the cave and examined its entrance. It was originally blocked with a steel gate and sealed by government officials. The gate and the seal were downed by a single shot. Obviously it was Steve who simply shot it open and led the others in.

Midnight frowned and shook his head. "They're not here." He announced. "I'm not getting anything more than footprints reading three days old."

The other two stared at him in silent fear. Midnight didn't see their expressions until he tore his sensors from the cave. Then he realized what he had just said. Three days . . . "The kill?" He asked Spellbinder, meaning the dead beast.

"At least a day and a half old." The warrior replied.

"A day and a half?" Mid echoed. He glanced at the tracks lining the tunnel's entrance. "They must be . . ."

"On the other side of the island." Shan finished as she approached. She held up a map and it flittered in the early evening wind. "I'd hate to tell you guys this, but I just found the remains of at least six other people all laid neatly under a mound of rocks about a good half a mile from here. And guys, I'm no doctor, but I could tell you no Humanoid could leave marks like the ones I saw-not with skin shredded like string cheese. And one of them had a map in his shirt pocket. According to this, or what he was sketching, there is a ravine on the other side of the island, but it's been marked as prohibited."

"Does the map say why?" Voodoo asked.

"Nope. The poor stiff never got the chance to finish his scribble."

Midnight tried to choose between going into the tunnel himself, or simply racing across the plateau and check out the ravine.

Spellbinder moaned and shook his head. "You know, I haven't been able to contact Kayla since last night." Do you think it might have something to do with whatever's underground?"

"Possibly . . ." Midnight's phrase trailed off when he realized it must be responsible for cutting him off from Steve.

"Whoa!" Voodoo ducked as something in the wind passed over him. It veered back to the ocean side and all three Transformers and Shan witnessed a stream of blood and water racing in the air like a comet.

"What is that?" Spellbinder gasped.

"One of the dog-beasts!" Voodoo answered. It swung back around and emitted a terrible roar. Midnight stared at it in wordless awe. He stood perfectly still even when it came right up to him and hovered right in his face. The water, barely visible, rippled until a face formed. The bloodied eyes directed

nothing but hate at him and it opened it terrible maw, threatening to swallow Midnight whole.

Mid remained perfectly calm. "You can't . . . touch me." He answered an unspoken question. "Go back to your grave."

It roared again and shot straight up into the air and plunged back down then skidded along the ground, aiming right for Shan. Voodoo shattered the glass window of a nearby car and tossed it like a boomerang. The glass sliced right through the beast and it shrieked so that Shan clasped her ears and fell to the ground in pain. The thing shot back into the air, still screaming in agony and plunged into the ground.

Shan recalled her helmet from subspace and wept. Midnight carefully picked her up and turned to the other two. "I thought there was only one creature."

"There's two of them." Voodoo answered. "I saw two of them in the old station, fighting."

"Well, what are they doing on Chenobis when they're supposed to be on Cybertron? How are they traveling?

"Kyle thinks one of them travels with him at all times. I don't know about the other."

"Shan?" Mid asked softly. "Are you okay?"

"Yes." She firmly answered. "I'm okay." But she trembled in Mid's hands. She suddenly realized darkness was falling rapidly and a chill had settled in her bones. Shan gathered her nerves under iron control.

"Let's checkout the ravine." Mid suggested. He walked off the edge of the cliff, transformed and bolted back over the plateau, his companions joined him a moment later as the sun fell to shadow.

_Shan? _

_Ran into an old friend._ she answered Roddy. _No big deal. I'm okay. _

_Will you be back soon? _

_Better be! _

Her terse answer made him smile. They raced over fifteen miles of long grasses and rolling hills. The land seemed rather odd for a plateau, really. Or at least that's what Shan imagined the right term would be. The plateau was still a part of the mainland by a stretch of man-made networks breaching between it and the island. Then something dawned on her: "Mid, that network below us . . . it wasn't there this afternoon!"

"I know." The Sentinel answered.

"Whaddya mean you know?"

"I mean, there are other things I've seen I didn't want to discuss."

Shan shrugged her shoulders, having no idea what Mid was talking about.

"I suspect there's a lot of nasty little tales not mentioned about this place-Oh Primus! Spellbinder, Voodoo, I've got life readings!

Midnight dipped straight into the ravine head first. His engines stirred a white fog spurting from the stone walls of the ravine. He transformed and landed just as he spotted two figures in the distance fall from an opening and hit the ground unconscious.

End part 3

T.L. Arens


	4. Chapter 4

TRANSFORMERS:

Sentinel Arc: Bad Dreams

Part 4

"Doctor Scott . . . when do you see this monster?"

"All the time I was there. It tried to attack Steven once, but Midnight came in the room and the dog-beast ran out through the wall."

"Doctor Scott, what do you know or remember of this monster? When did you first see the beast?"

"I don't know. It comes and goes whenever it pleases."

"When did you first see the beast?"

"It comes and goes whenever it pleases."

"When did you first see the beast?"

"It comes and goes . . ."

"When . . ."

" . . . whenever it pleases."

"I have fleeting dreams. Cold. I walk over a land met with a bleeding sky. Something comes to me when I least expect it. It tells me it wants to make love to me. But all it does is steal more from me. It's eating me alive."

"Trias nyt skau"- To do no harm.

"Trias plindau nyt pnumau"- To endanger no life.

"Trias neesam yvlan, richat"-To respect and uphold and praise

" . . . Trias cres noothoo pnumau linth kem kemkan"-. . . to put another life before my own.

"Trias nyt skau . . ."

"Shhhh." A warm kind hand lay on Kyle's chest and he could feel the life force flood his weakened soul. He slowly opened his eyes, still murmuring the oath he took hundreds of years ago. He blinked, slowly adjusting to the bright friendly light in the hospital room. The first thing he saw was Kayla's lovely face, so sweetly framed by her curling horns and silky dark brown hair. Her wild dark eyes sparkled with a hint of sadness, her brows fixed with worry.

"It attacked Steve." Kyle weakly murmured. "I remembered, but I forgot again. Midnight was there, but that was a long time ago. But there was something else . . . something I can't remember . . ."

"Shhhh."

His brow tingled from her lingering kiss. Kyle closed his eyes, the moment lifted his pain and he wished she would kiss him on the lips, just once.

And the very next moment, she did. A light touch of her soft lips crossed his and Kyle took in her scent and felt her strong soul caress his lovingly, kindly. She gently kissed him between the eyes and took his hand in hers then she withdrew.

Kyle watched as she sat next to him. She too was wearing a hospital gown, her favorite robe covered her body, bordered at the shoulders and sleeve cuffs with lace and a silk tie string at the neck piece. His eyes fell to her hand, still kindly holding his. A new bandage wrapped his wound but blood stained the back of his hand near the stigma. His mind remained foggy. He struggled to recall the last few . . . days? Weeks?

Months, at least, it had to be months.

"What day is it, Kayla?" He finally asked.

"Tuesday."

"And . . . and . . ." Kyle shook his head. There was a question he needed to ask, but Kyle could not find the reason to ask it, nor could he figure out what he wanted to ask.

"Half a week." Kayla answered. "We've all been here for half a week, Kyle. I'm getting out on good behavior."

Kyle's face twisted in confusion. "A week?"

"Four days."

". . . why?"

Kayla knitted her own brows but Kyle could not tell if she was wondering why he was asking questions, or if the answers were as puzzling to her. "Respiratory treatments, Kyle. All four of us inhaled toxic gasses." She shook her head slightly. "Kyle, don't you recall the ship? Falling into the ravine? The light went out in the cave and-"

Scott turned pale. "Steve!" He whispered. "Oh, Primus!" he about jumped out of bed and then realized a tube snaked in and out of his left arm. His eyes followed the tiny hoses containing blood and he bounced his eyes from that back to Kayla.

"Blood loss." Kayla answered quietly. "You've lost four and a half pints. They raced for hours trying to close off torn veins." Her eyes fell. "At least, that's what Spellbinder told me.

Kyle only recalled the deep darkness, the blue panel lighting the hallway, guiding he and Steve as they walked. Then he remembered the autopsies, the bridge and . . . and . . . Steve and the cold and . . . "We came to a dead end. Steve was hurt somehow and I had to force myself to try the combination lock."

Kayla nodded. "They found deep pierces like tooth marks in his left shoulder. And . . . they found blood in his ears. But they don't know why-"

"Xesnex."

Kayla turned her head just so, her eyes peering at him out their corners.

"He attacked us." Kyle explained. "I-I recall it raced down the corridor just as I was trying to pry the door open and It-he-attacked Steve . . ." Kyle shook his head when he realized his memories were all out of sequence. All gone. There was something more; a memory that refused to surface and the more he thought of it, the more elusive it became and Kyle decided to leave it. Another thought instantly replaced it, however.

"Jill?"

Kayla's eyes darted away, striking the hall in a southern direction. "She's in ICU, too. We . . . we were in the ravine and I saw these holes in the rock walls all around us and I could not figure out what they were. We didn't see them during the day; they weren't visible. But when we found them, Jill tried to pry the rock away, too see what it was and that was when it sprayed directly in her face. Seconds later, the whole area filled with a gas. We passed out."

"That's where we landed, wasn't it?" Kyle asked.

"You remember?"

"No. I don't recall anything but the wall suddenly lifted and I fell." Kyle would have said more but he spotted Steve against the open door. Doctor Scott blinked and a vision flashed before his eyes:

THIS JUST IN: SIXTEEN UNIDENTIFIED FLYING OBJECTS HAVE BEEN SPOTTED OVER THE CENMAR AND YINSTARK CONTINENTS. SOURCES SAY NO ONE IS TO PANIC, THEY MOST LIKELY ARE HERE FOR REFUELING. I REPEAT-DO NOT PANIC AT THE UFO'S . . . DO NOT PANIC

And sixteen black shapes became harbingers of death . . . sixteen? Weren't there nine!

Weren't there nine!

Kyle shook his head, the voice faded with his inner demands. He watched Parker stand in silence. His face did not bother to cover the anxiety and terrible oppressions darkening his mind.

Vicious dreams of merciless cruelty left Steve's nerves a tangled mess. He came see Kyle, to make sure Kyle was okay. But while this confirmation lifted his fears for his friend, did not lift Steve's oppressing mood. Something was stolen from him and Captain Parker could not tell what it was.

He turned every direction to evade their memory but they haunted him like a dying man forced to stare into a mirror. He blinked, unable to think of anything to say to Kyle at the moment. It was the terrible lidless eye that haunted him. It watched him constantly-right now. Right now.

An awkward silence ensued and for once Kyle saved the moment: "Really, now, Nurse Kayla. If you were going to have me examined, the least you could do was get someone more experienced than a monkey."

Parker caught the joke and his jaw dropped in mock humiliation. "Will you listen to this guy? He's been barely conscious for two seconds and already he's bossing you around!"

Kayla studied his pale face then she turned to Kyle. "You know, Jill and I went along to keep you guys out of trouble. Seems you got into it, anyway. You owe me a breakfast for it, Mister. A good breakfast, not something made up here or at the kitchen." Kayla beamed and turned back to Parker. "He just called you a monkey, Steve."

Steve crossed his arms. "How do you like that? I try to save a man's life and sanity and all he can do is call me names. Did the other nurses tell you to say that, Kyle?"

Kyle blinked slowly. "They won't tell me anything." He complained. "I ask about the girls. They tell me 'everything's fine, Doctor Scott. Take yourself a holiday.' I asked about you. They say 'Steve's doing fine, Doctor Scott, you just lie quiet.' Holidays and quiet . . . not meant for someone who can't mentally settle down, Steve." He paused, subtly smiling. "I'm glad you're okay."

Steve returned the smile with a grim reaction. He didn't feel much like anything at this point. He approached the bedside and frowned. He tried to think of something else to say, anything. But nothing bright nor cheerful came to mind. Nothing at all.

"What now?" Kayla asked quietly breaking the moment.

Kyle blinked slowly. Weariness called him to back to sleep. The nurse would return in a while to give him more fluids. "Now . . . we compare notes and try to make sense of what we saw." He closed his eyes again and sighed.

Steve nodded in mute agreement.

------------------------------------

Jill laid flat on her back. Her arms lay stretched out, clamped to a table's cold surface. Her legs lay apart, supported by a ramp, the rest of her body was exposed to chilly air and Jill wished someone would cover her. Something covered her eyes, prohibiting her from seeing anything. She prayed she was in Medbay . . . she assumed . . . McKennan tried to lift her head and found it pinned tight from her temples-no, she was attached to a machine from her temples. She tried to wiggle her fingers and felt tiny metal rods all buried lengthwise under the skin.

Her heart started to pound in fear. The more she tried to move, the more devices and things she found in her body.

Jill moved her lower jaw and found it still worked. She swallowed, finding her mouth terribly dry. "Somebody?" Her voice scarcely, scarcely made a sound. "Somebody, help me! Is anybody there? Anybody?"

Then she realized it was an idiotic idea to call for help; she might be heard by the wrong people!

Something hissed open and shut and Jill started to

hyperventilate. "Hello?" She called. "Kyle? Steve? Is somebody there? I'm cold!" She waited for response-the terrible blindness drove her mad, "Hello?"

"Zhack." An alien voice said beside her.

"I don't know what that means." Jill's voice broke in fear. "Please, I can't see anything! Who's there?"

"Lath."

"I'm sorry." Jill's voice wavered. "I don't recognize that word-wait . . . Zhack . . . that's Chenobian for demon. Did you just call me-" she caught her breath as ice cold metal kissed her at the top of her chest and trailed clear down her front. Jill tried to squirm, but clamps and rods held her naked body taut and she started to cry.

The metal punctured her skin down two more layers, hurting and she started breathing hard. "No!" She screamed.

One more long slice and long cold fingers dug into the cutline and pulled her skin apart.

Jill squirmed and struggled to sit up and tried to open her eyes. Something warm and wet plastered her face and she tried to pull it off, but her hands were bound to bed rails and she kicked and screamed through the wrappings. She screamed louder and alarms whined, calling people to attend her.

"Don't touch me!" Jill screamed. "I'm sentient! I'm sentient!" The hiss of a tranquilizer sounded in her ears and the girl's body wrestled and bucked in protest. She started to

weep.

_Jill . . ._ Skywolf's presence whispered her name and Jill gasped for breath, her body struggled to resist.

"Easy, child." a gentle feminine voice sounded to her right, "You're safe. Right here in Medbay. You're alright."

Jill calmed, faintly hearing the noise outside the room as people came and left . . . ICU? "ICU?" She slurred.

"Yes, hon. We got'cha taken care of."

"Kyle and Steve?"

"Here. Safe. Sleep."

That was all she needed and McKennan passed out.

------------------------------------

Four days elapsed before Doctor Hashu gave Scott, Kayla and Steve the okay to leave. Hashu privately explained to Kyle they feared Jill might have lost her sight due to the frontal impact of the gas.

Steve insisted they say nothing to their 'little friend' and he expected everyone to allow no time for Jill to feel downhearted. They visited her everyday, several hours at a time.

Three days later, Doctor Hashu performed a final surgery and later that afternoon, they started to remove her bandages.

Kyle sat there with her, holding her hands while Hashu carefully cut away the gauze.

"This is so much better than the dream I had." Jill was grateful Kyle held her hands while Hashu undid the binding one medicated layer at a time.

"What dream?" Kyle's soft professional voice filled the air and McKennan realized she had forgotten how much she loved his manners.

"I was bound to a table of sorts and dissected." Kyle gently squeezed her fingers.

"That's frightening, Jill." He answered softly.

She swallowed hard, unable to cry. "A terrible dream." She whispered. Again he gently squeezed her hands assuringly.

Hashu removed the remaining bandages and gingerly cleaned her new skin. He smiled at Kyle's admiration of his work and applied a layer of lotion over McKennan's restored face.

"Okay, Jill." Hashu paused in his work. "You need to apply lotion to your face every day for five days."

"Okay." McKennan answered softly.

The two doctors exchanged a silent worried glance. Kyle remained still, "Jill, when Doctor Hashu takes off the bandage, keep your eyes closed a moment later then cover them before you open them."

"Okay." Her voice nervously echoed.

Hashu removed the little pads of woven cotton from her eyes and Jill covered her face.

Kyle laid his fingers over his mouth, silently praying. She slowly withdrew her hands and blinked a set of pretty brown eyes.

"It's all blurry." She reported, "I'm okay, though."

"You most certainly are, Jill." Hashu answered. He scribbled everything down on the chart beside him and turned away one moment then came back and handed Jill a lollipop. "This is for you for being the best patient of them all." He congratulated.

Jill graciously accepted it, trying hard not to smile.

------------------------------------

Kyle and Steve agreed to hold a meeting and exchange notes they and the ladies acquired from Chenobis. Steve decided to invite Nick for his technological expertise. Then he thought of another friend of theirs: Matt Frasier. The problem was timing. Matt was in the middle of a divorce and Nick had been called away to handle a black-out in Below.

Kyle did not want to wait any longer than they had to. Urgency filled him from the moment he woke, to the time he dropped off to sleep. Voodoo said very little to him, almost sulking. But knowing the Sentinel's behavior, Kyle understood Voodoo was merely trying to deal with the whole mess. At least they weren't fighting.

Not yet.

"You never said anything to me." Voodoo quietly stated two days after Kyle was released from the hospital. They traversed the park, walking slowly so that Doctor Scott did not have to catch his breath. Kyle sipped water and caught sight of the one hill sloping off to the eastern part of the park. It was Steve's favorite place. Crowned with large trees and a bench, it stood watchful over the rest of the garden. "I tried to contact you in the ship." He answered. "But I couldn't get through."

"Tell me about the ship, Kyle. What happened?"

Kyle shook his head. "I don't know, Voodoo. At least, I don't remember too much. There was alien technology . . . something happened to Steve and I know I have those memories, but I can't tap into them."

Voodoo suddenly collapsed to his knees, his form hunched over. "Why are you blocking me?" He asked.

"What?"

"Can't you hear me anymore? I tried on hundreds of occasions to talk to you over the link, but you keep a shield between us. It hurts, Kyle. You're hurting me."

Kyle flinched in surprise. "But . . . I thought you were holding a shield against me. I thought you didn't want me poking around in your head, that you might have some . . . top secret . . ." he felt a vibration through the link. Weak, plaintive, sad. If it was from Voodoo . . . "V, why would I shield you from me? I need you. I need to know someone is there for me."

Voodoo shrugged. "I dunno. I figured you were mad at me."

Kyle stared at him and accessed artificial implanted memories. It was hard because unlike true memory, Kyle had to access them like one would textbook material. He frowned. "Voodoo, have you ever known me to be angry without finding the time to snap at you?"

Voodoo frowned. "Kyle, you are not the kind of person to loose his temper unless pushed to a point. I can press buttons all day and you won't make a move. Not until I start attacking you emotionally."

Kyle blinked at this revelation. "Oh." He turned away, taking another quaff of water. He turned back and pointed a finger at Voodoo. "I think there might be something wrong with the link."

"How so?"

Doctor Scott shook his head. "Don't know. Most likely outside interference. Or my own physiological condition might be setting up prohibitive parameters attacking neural pathways through the coroander nerves, thereby affecting your ordysimic sensors."

Voodoo snorted and smiled, struggling not to laugh.

Kyle blinked. "What's so funny?" His voice was level, indicating he wasn't mad, just curious.

"You rattle that stuff off as though nothing had ever happened. I didn't understand a thing you just said."

Kyle blinked again and drank more water. Then he smiled, admitting it all did sound kinda funny. "Perhaps we should go talk to Skywolf."

Kyle followed Chaos out to the Observation and Scanning Auditorium (OSA). Standing fifty feet high and seventy feet in either direction, the room remained the only facility in three solar systems capable of doing x-ray, CAT scans, MRI's and EEG's right on the table without moving the patient. Originally, the OSA was the only means of tapping into the consciousness that made the Interface links. Kyle and Skywolf collaborated on it for thirty years just prior to the Tji war. There was almost nothing a patient could hide from the sensitive (very expensive) equipment. Even dreams could be monitored on the sub-psycho laser graph.

But Kyle never dreamed he would end up on one of those tables himself. He squirmed, trying to forget that he was just here for a quick exam, not a bug under a microscope. He could not figure out why he was so nervous.

Ten feet from him, Voodoo lay on a similar table. But he remained very still. He gazed at his nervous partner and forced a smile. "It'll be okay, Kyle." Voodoo said softly. "I won't let them stick needles in you."

Kyle flinched and nearly sat up but Voodoo beat him too it, supporting his weight on one elbow. "Kyle." He called softly. "Don't panic."

"I'm trying not to."

Hashu called from the control room above them, his voice full of concern. "Is everything alright, you two?"

Voodoo gazed up at the transparent titanium windows. He automatically patched into the intercom system. "Kyle's . . . having subconscious flashbacks, Doctor."

Skywolf patched in from his station. "Voodoo . . . I thought. . . I thought you talked to him-"

"Who's had time?" Voodoo snapped. "Just . . . just gimme a minute, will ya? Hold on to your reserve tanks a second." He slipped off the flat and knelt at his partner while Kyle sat up.

"What's wrong with me?" Kyle held himself tightly and batted his eyes against the glaring floodlights from the control station.

"It's an old wound." Voodoo answered simply. "I guess it's one of those bad moments-you know, when they transferred some of my memories to you . . . something like that. But, how did the emotion transfer? I thought you said the emotions . . ." Voodoo stopped himself and frowned. "Okay, we were both there. I think you're . . . "

Kyle looked down, unable to retain eye contact. Something awful must have happened and it caused him to have a panic attack. "I don't want to know." He said softly.

Voodoo took Kyle's hands between his fingers. "We don't have to do this." He emphasized.

"Yes we do." Kyle argued.

"No. We don't. We don't have to do a damned thing. If you don't feel comfortable enough to do this, we won't do it. I won't have you freaking out on me. Kyle, it's not your fault."

Kyle drew a deep breath. That helped. Whatever it was that had happened seemed to fade and Kyle put his trust in Voodoo's sincerity. He nodded and laid back down. "I'll be okay." He gazed at his partner's opticless face but Voodoo remained stern. He waited a moment, watching Kyle and scanning his life signs for trouble. But Kyle seemed to genuinely relax. Perhaps it wasn't the flashback at all. Perhaps Kyle just needed a little reassurance. Voodoo hoped so. He returned to the examination table and patched back into the intercom.

"He'll be okay. But no dilly-dally. You know he hates this."

"Alright, Voodoo. Just be patient. We'll get you two out as soon as possible." Wolf turned to Chaos with a frown. "Testy, isn't he?" he asked, meaning Voodoo.

Chaos frowned. "Scott's like most doctors, Wolf, better on the handle-side of a scalpel."

Skywolf grunted and he and Hashu started on the sequence of scans.

"Physical patterns normal." Hashu reported.

"Same here." Wolf replied. He watched the monitor as UV blue scans shot between Kyle and Voodoo at one frequency then changed frequencies for variation patterns then changed again toward the dark light spectrums, picking up the Interface auras and life force patterns.

Chaos stepped a little closer to the window as the dark light revealed the sequence Interface patterns unique to Kyle and Voodoo. "What the hell is that?" she asked.

Wolf stood and watched as the patterns between Kyle and Voodoo fluctuated much like a subspace message suffering from massive interference. He shook his head. "I don't know. Let me run another scan on the Ra'nine frequency."

"That's going to make Voodoo really edge." Chaos warned.

"I know." Wolf frowned. He tapped in the order for the computer and the scan light changed rapidly, shooting out streams of red light intermixed with blue. Voodoo covered his face and turned his back to Kyle.

"I'm getting peeks and valleys." Hashu warned.

But he went unheard as Wolf and Chaos strained to see what the scans were revealing. Wolf glanced at his monitor and shook his head.

"Oh Primus." He swore. "Okay, I think I've seen enough. Shut it off. Shut them all off." He sat down and started piecing the information together. But he already knew what it was saying.

Jill entered the auditorium with a robe for Kyle. He sat up as though just waking from a restless sleep. But he did not greet or look at her. Jill laid the robe over his shoulders and tried to make eye contact. "Kyle?" She asked carefully. "Are you okay?" She waited, but he still said nothing. She glanced up at the control center. _Wolf, he's not responding. _

_We had to use ra'nine frequencies._ he answered objectively.

Jill frowned and shielded her partner from her fearful reaction when Kyle's nose began to bleed. She swept up tissues for him. "Wolf said he had to use ra'nine, Kyle." She answered his puzzled expression. Jill glanced in Voodoo's direction and found the Sentinel had not moved. Perhaps he had blacked out.

Kyle's mind raced to recall what that meant. In his confused state, all he knew was that it was painful. Then he remembered ra'nine was a dark light frequency that reached deep into the subconscious mind and extracted meta-DNA information from the life force. If used for an extended period of time, the frequency would kill the patient.

He thought his head was going to shrivel up. Kyle weakly laid on his side and almost instantly fell asleep.

A female flung herself at Steve the moment Parker stepped into his quarters. He staggered in surprise, staring into the eyes of a feline-like creature with silver hair and green eyes. She gripped him in a fierce kiss.

His stunned reaction faded to astonishment after she turned angry when he didn't remember her-or the fact that they were married. Her tight little figure huddled in grief and it was all Steve could do to comfort her.

Then came the argument.

And standing in Medbays' diagnostics section, the last thing Parker wanted to hear is some long-ass report from Skywolf. But his attitude changed with Skywolf's grave news:

"The link between Kyle and Voodoo, the reason for their inability to communicate . . . the link is diminishing."

Steve and Mid gave the doctor the very same expression.

"That is impossible." Mid voiced first.

"I thought nothing could change the strength of the link once it's established." Steve added.

"Normally, yes." First Aid agreed. "Once Interface occurs, there is no going back. There is nothing you can do to strengthen the link. It simply is. But three tests confirmed the very same thing: Kyle and Voodoo have thirty percent link left. And it looks like it's diminishing."

Midnight leaned against the wall, astounded. "That, that will kill them both, won't it? It will be like they died. That means Voodoo will loose his mind, won't it?"

"Not altogether at once." Skywolf answered. "He's already going through the withdrawal stages: headaches, slowed reflexes, irritability."

"But because Kyle is still alive, and Voodoo is aware of it, it's slowing the insanity stages to a crawl." Parker assumed.

Mid gazed to Steve and thought briefly how he would feel if anything like this ever happened to his partner. Not Steve, Mid thought, I won't loose Steve. He watched as Steve turned away, lost in his own thoughts, raising a shield to keep Mid out of the confusion and pain over Ashtar and the whole affair with Kyle.

Midnight sighed. "What do we do?"

Skywolf and First Aid glanced at each other, looking for an answer neither of them had.

The silence became awkward after a moment then Steve pocketed his hands. "I think," he called, "we just move on with our plans: find out what the hell those creatures are and what we can do to put a stop to it."

Mid frowned and nodded in silent agreement.

Kyle struggled with the same nasty headache two days after the examination. He carefully poured over the recorded images Jill brought back from Chenobis. She sat quietly next to him, sipping a tall glass of iced juice. Kyle scribbled notes wishing she would say something about her findings. The silence in his head was slowly forcing him out of his mind. Sound, any kind of sudden sound, made him jump because the quiet in his soul was so terrible. Voodoo's voice wasn't in the back of his mind anymore and Kyle forced all his concentration on anything that passed him in order to avoid the stillness. But there he and Jill sat there quietly in the library, waiting for the others to attend the meeting.

Finally he paused to stretch. Jill turned from an empty glass, watching Doctor Scott as he paced the room. "What do you think?" She asked, looking forward to his professional opinion.

"About your recordings?"

"Yes." Jill stared at him, not at all liking his sweater and jeans outfit. Kyle usually ate, slept and lived in his uniform but for the past two days, he hadn't so much as thought about it.

"Well . . . I think it's frightening. The scratch marks on the walls are very indicative of what Steve and I assumed during the autopsy."

"And what's that?"

"Mass murder-or war, depends on your point of view."

Jill's weary three-fingered hands pressed controls over the digipad as she transferred other data from one gadget to another and in the next moment, the printer located next to the south window clicked on and started spewing paper.

The doors swished open and both silently gave the entrance a wary glance. Nick more or less dragged Shan in, a wide grin plastered over his face, his eyes hungrily scanning the table for alien technology. Jill kindly offered it to him by producing a little plastic bag containing the flat crystal from Chenobis.

"Here you go, Nick." She baited, dangling the bag like a carrot on a string. "But don't tell a damned soul you have it. The governments on Chenobis will kill to get their hands on this."

Nick made a beeline for the 'honey' and swept it away. He examined it closely as though preparing to bid a handsome price.

Steve came in the very next minute. His eyes scrutinized Kyle, but he said nothing; neither his nor Kyle's expressions changed, as though they knew what the other was thinking. Steve cast his gaze to the table, dreading the inevitable.

Kyle just glanced at the blue-skinned woman that arrived with Nick. He offered her a weak smile, but had no idea who she was. He took his seat next to Jill and fingered an empty cup of coffee.

Shan shot him a surprised look. Kyle didn't say hello. Her eyes jumped from Kyle to Steve in silent question. Steve berated himself for forgetting. Kyle knew Nick because a week before the conference, Nick was being treated for burns. And while Nick talked about Shan, Kyle did not meet her face to face. He moved in, laying his right arm across Shanygn's shoulders and guided her to Kyle.

"Kyle," he called. He waited until Scott gave him eye contact. "Kyle, this is Shan."

The moment proved awkward. Kyle forced another smile, but Steve could tell he was upset and embarrassed about his behavior. He regained his composure a moment later, but he did not offer his hand in greeting. Instead, Kyle hid it under the table and Steve's heart ached for him. "Hello, Shan." Kyle whispered.

To Steve's relief, Shangyn sent him the warmest smile he had ever seen the lady offer anyone but Nick. She sat in the next chair and touched Kyle's shoulder then took his hand. "Hello, Kyle." She answered softly. She squeezed his hand.

Kyle looked back, grateful for the contact. Shan, like Kayla, was unique. A black sleeveless turtleneck hugged her torso, revealing more of her blue skin. Electric nodes and tiny wire connectors punctuated her joints and a pair of slim black braces wrapped her wrists and upper arms. Her short, cropped, dark blue/black hair framed her face in an expression of power. Kyle figured in a tough situation, Shan was more than capable of handling herself.

Shan couldn't get over the fact that Kyle was not wearing his uniform. She tossed her gaze to Steve and sent him a 'something's-not-right' look. Steve read the expression and nodded, slowly blinking.

The entrance doors opened and a well-built male slipped in, carrying a coat and brief case. "Hi." He smiled at Steve who invited him to have a seat. The blonde man lapped his coat over the back of a chair and set the case on the table. He nearly sat when he wiggled his fingers at Shan who shined him on. Jill waved at him without making eye contact.

"Sorry I'm late." Matt sighed. "Bad day."

"It's okay." Steve forgave. "We're still waiting on Kayla. Matt, you remember Doctor Scott, don't you?"

Matt opened his brief case and gave Kyle a second look. "No, actually. We've never formally introduced." He stood and extended a hand.

Feeling a little more at ease, Kyle stood and accepted the shake. Matt sat back down. "Good to meet you, Doctor Scott."

"It's just Kyle." He answered simply.

"Well, I'm supposed to be Colonel Matthew-something-Frasier. But I like Matt." Frasier buried his face in his brief case, sorting through papers and digipads. "Short, to the point. And don't ask me what my middle name is. It's a horrible name and I've tried for years to change it."

Shan smiled.

The doors opened again and Kayla quickly entered, taking a seat, acting like a little girl late to class. "Sorry." She whispered.

Steve ran his tongue over his teeth. "Well . . . I guess we should get started. Anybody want to go first?"

Silence.

Matt closed his brief case and set it on the floor. He arranged three digipads and two paper tablets in front of him and wrestled a pen between his hands. "If no one is willing to say anything, how about someone start by filling me in on what's going on?"

Kyle's eyes snapped up, surprised. "No one's told you?"

Matt struggled not to smile. "No, Doctor Scott. All I got in subspace transmission was quote:'Matt! We discovered something! Could you come and check it out?' Unquote."

The corners of Kyle's mouth tightened as he tried not to smile. He folded his hands on the table and leaned forward just a little. "About a month ago I was asked to investigate a very abnormal medical case on Chenobis. Beth D'Chlavic suffered from severe amnesia and self-inflicted wounds. The day I was there, something, some force, ripped her to pieces then turned and injured several other people." Kyle paused a moment, struggling against his emotions to tell the rest of the story. "Whatever afflicted D'Chlavic, has affected me. Steve and I did some investigating and found Beth was not the only one killed by It."

Matt opened his hands, his pen twitched in one of them. "So this is just the matter of finding out what 'It' is." Kyle nodded. Frasier batted his eyes. "I'm sorry, Doctor, but I don't feel you need me. It would seem the medical mystery is more your own forte than mine."

Steve sat in the chair next to Matt at this point. "There's a great deal more to the story than poltergeists, Matt. We've uncovered the story of a planet-wide alien invasion and the near-extinction of the entire Chenobian population through cross-breeding."

Shan, Nick and Matt stared at Parker, startled.

"It gets better." Kyle added, pleased their new cohorts had attained interest. "Steve and I were trapped in the space ship found by D'Chlavic. The things we found . . . the autopsy I performed . . . It seems the Chenobians saved their own race through genetically-manipulated biological warfare."

Matt's eyes widened and he gazed down at his hands with a great exasperated sigh. "Okay. So, what you're asking is my help in unveiling the connection between the so-called medical problem and the alien factor."

"Right." Kyle and Steve chorused. They caught each others' gaze and Steve smiled far more broadly than Kyle.

Matt sat up straight. "Well, let's see what you have."

Kayla drew items out of subspace and placed them on the table next to Beth's journal and the manilla folder Jill brought from the cave. "I have a photograph and map of the area we were in from Doctor Rychel's tent. There is also a very weird artifact . . . some kind of scroll or other." And she laid this on the table, expecting someone to grab it.

Kyle stared at it suspiciously. "Where did you get that?"

"From Rychal's tent." she answered simply. "Take a look at it. It's really weird."

Steve took it first, sliding the scroll out of its leather keep and unraveled it. He flinched immediately, batting his eyes as though shocked with bright light. "It's a contract." He announced.

Kyle's dark eyes met Steve's and memory shot through him; "I call them the Watchers." he recited: " . . . The freakiest part of the alter-find is the skin scroll tucked away in the little ceramic box." Kyle's expression remained impassive as Steve turned blank. Doctor Scott repeated word-for-word what Parker read from the journal about a week ago

Matt glanced from one Tentchi to the next. "What's he saying?"

"It's a passage I read from the journal." Steve answered as he leaned back in his chair, impressed. Kyle was only half conscious at the time it was read.

Kyle considered the words carefully and recalled the room he, Steve and the ladies visited. "The tanks." He said softly to himself. "File cabinets."

"Yes." Jill nodded. "We were all in that room, Kyle. We were separated."

"That's not what I'm thinking about, though." Kyle shook his head, not looking at her. "It was the cube we were examining when the . . . light flickered. The cube was what Beth described as an alter. I don't think she meant a literal alter; she was being poetic. As you recall, Rychal and his brother were killed there. And it was that very place all the trouble started."

Kayla watched Steve lay the scroll on the table and stared at it for a long moment as though caught in a trance. "What about the two dog statues D'Chlavic mentioned?" The Kshi asked. "Where are they? What would they be doing in the 'alter'?"

Matt nodded. "Could be a storage place or something."

Scott shook his head. "The one thing we all need to remember is that one major event followed another." Kyle took to his feet and paced in a small circle. "First the aliens invaded. Years afterward, a new civilization started to form and a rebellion took place. It very well could be that the people were oppressed and culturally, they rebelled."

"The removal of the female reproductive organs." Kayla agreed. "Art or fashion, it became a symbol."

Steve laid the scroll on the table and stood as Kyle laid his arms across the back of his chair and leaned forward. The two stared at one another for a moment as though trying to read one another's thoughts.

Steve frowned. "The alien invasion begets a breeding program that begets a mutation factor which begets a cultural rebellion and then diseases break out . . . what are we missing here, Kyle?"

Scott blinked. "Sightings?"

Matt glanced from the Doctor to the Captain. "You mean ghost sightings?"

Both men gave him their attention and for some reason, Frasier wanted to crawl under the table. He shrugged and fell silent.

Kyle turned his attention to Nick who remained silent up till now. "What do you have to say about all this, Nick?" he asked.

Nick shrugged. "Only that someone promised to let me see something of crystal technology and I don't have anything to look at other than the trapezoid."

Kyle stared at him coolly before sliding his hand into a pocket and produced the three pieces of flat metal from the ship. "Here. See what you can make of these."

"What are they?"

Doctor Scott shrugged. "Someone's mystery novels, I'd guess, Nick. There was a whole shelf case of them."

Steve nodded and reached for the manila folder Jill brought with her. "That was just before we entered a death chamber and found all kinds of torture victims."

Shan paled and threw her eyes on the table. Steve caught the moment and smiled apologetically. "Sorry, Shan."

Nick glanced in his wife's direction, amused that anything should bother her at all. Then something from the table caught his eye. The techno-wizard spotted the scroll lying unrolled near Steve. The deformed head of a dead alien reared out of it and turned to him with a terrible evil smile. When its lips split, blood seeped from between its stained teeth. Nick nearly dropped the plates and glanced about to see if anybody else saw it. But no one at the table reacted in any way.

Matt scribbled over a tablet while Steve leafed through the folder. His eyes drifted toward the scroll as his mind tried to fit all the pieces together. He heard only a few reports regarding the deaths in West Central and Strata-Mainframe. It seemed a little odd that no Transformer had been injured or killed by the ghosts; just the Humanoid population.

As he continued to stare aimlessly, a veil of darkness settled over his eyes. He shook his head, finding his sight left him. He glanced from one side of the room to the other and before he could say anything, a shadow crossed the darkness. It turned toward him; a figure of ash and rain and it bore the face of an old man, deathly pale and burdened by decades of grief. A fearful green light glowed softly from behind the holes that served as a set of eyes. Matt tried to look in Kyle's direction and the moment he did so, the vision passed, his sight returned. But it left the Colonel unsettled. He cleared his throat, uncertain whether or not he should mention what he just saw. "So the poltergeists are the ghosts of the aliens?"

Everyone stared at him. Kyle frowned. "No." Doctor Scott replied quietly. "According to D'Chlavic's journal, Chenobis has suffered severe plaques. Each time the plaque hit, it's only been certain parts of the world and very particularly the science community."

Matt sat back in his chair, confused and frustrated. "That makes even less sense. How about approaching this from another angle? What's with the crystal?"

Jill glanced at Nick who intensely studied the plates. "I found it stashed in one of the cars there at the site, a pile of letters along with it. One of which, and I have it here, clearly states that Beth's team was in terrible danger and they tried to use the crystal as a bargaining tool to get government help. But the letter never arrived. It seems they were sabotaged from the very beginning."

Matt looked puzzled, "Sounds like this ghost doesn't like professional communities."

Nick sat on the table top, his feet on the chair and he stared at Kyle. "So you're saying that the excavation woke up a pair of sleeping ghosts."

"Yes." Kyle nodded.

"But who are these ghosts?" Matt asked, unnerved about the whole thing.

"Ptysar." Steve answered. "One ghost is Ptysar."

"Xesnex." Kyle instantly added. "The other's name is Xesnex."

"How do you know that?" Steve asked with a contorted expression.

Kyle couldn't look at him. "I-I guess I remembered when I regained consciousness."

Steve expected a better, more detailed answer, but Kyle offered nothing. And rather than forcing it out of them man, Parker swept up the journal and flipped through the pages, finding the one passage describing the scroll: "The word 'Zhagk' . . . means 'demon'. Could this be a contract with a demon? If so, that would explain the Keepers of the alter-" he lowered the book. "I suspect that is the descriptions of our ghosts."

Kyle shook his head. "But the contract was made with one demon, not two."

Steve held up a finger and continued the passage: " . . . and the One they were protecting. He must have been a prince or a king at one point." He closed the journal. "So what we're looking at is a hypothesis stating that a couple of demons, maybe more like aliens, made a contract with this king."

"But for what?" Nick asked. "What has that got to do with this? Why is it so important?"

Kyle furrowed his brows. "Here's another question for you, Nick: Why the hell was the scroll and the ghosts there at a research facility?"

Matt leaned back in the chair. "Maybe they instigated the research program." He quietly suggested. Parker beside him took to his feet and started to pace.

Then another idea hit Kyle. "The ghosts are blamed for the plagues that have hit Chenobis from time to time. What if the contract was created in addition to the DNA virus? You and I both have seen what those ghosts can do, Steve. Murder en mass."

Steve stared at him for a moment. "So what you're saying is this prince or king started a research and torture program to rid the world of their alien invasion problem. He wasn't satisfied with the fact that the scientists were capturing and murdering hundreds of aliens. So he made a business contract with a pair of aliens who . . . were killing Chenobians rather than aliens? Does that make sense, Kyle? Why were they killing Chenobians?"

Matt interceded again: "If I might make a suggestion here." He said quietly. All eyes turned to him. "I would guess the plaques aren't meant to murder so much as they were designed to weed out alien DNA. It would seem that if the people were mutated with the alien contagion, the only way to create a reversal process is to wipe out populations that have more of the mutation factor than others."

"And what about the science community?" Nick added. "Why would the aliens keep the Chenobians from technological improvements? If you want advanced equipment, here it is. I suspect the alien invaders had a system of crystal and kinetic technology. I doubt they had vocal interface at all."

Kyle nodded in agreement. He frowned "How did the king get in touch with two aliens? And why are they so willing to carry out their contract to this day? This whole incident, the invasion, occurred almost two thousand years ago. Why are the aliens still bothering with it?"

Steve shook his head. "It must have something to do with the contract. Maybe it's binding."

"Know what I think?" Matt answered in turn. "It sounds like these ghosts are doing more than just murdering at their pleasure: they're feeding off death." A soft bleep interrupted the moment and Matt snapped out his wrist and read the message. He frowned. "Guys, I need to go. How about we continue this tomorrow?"

Kyle frowned, saying nothing, and looked away. Steve silently nodded and Nick sighed and stared out the windows into the park. Jill offered Matt a sad smile with a permissible nod. Kayla sat with her arms folded. She merely nodded, glancing once at Kyle then pressed her lips tightly.

Shan gave him an open smile, "Sure." She agreed.

"Okay." Frasier snapped his case closed and abandoned the group.

Silence hung suspended like frozen time. Kyle felt cold inside. He softly rubbed his stigmatic hand, itching to release the tension and stress built up from the past few days. Skywolf's news burdened him in a way Kyle had not felt before. His whole life was being ripped up, one strand at a time and he did not know how to deal with it. The silent room drove him crazy. Everyone fell to their own thoughts and considerations. Kyle about bolted out of his seat when Steve finally spoke up:

"Anyone for Chinese?"

Two hours later, Kyle strapped on protective gaming gear. He did not enjoy lunch. All the others chattered on about things and people or events he knew nothing about. It annoyed him so much that they knew what they were talking about and he hadn't a clue. Kyle thought about burying his pain in news articles and medical updates. He thought about reacquainting himself with his office at Medbay. He thought about going over the Internet at home and pouring over all the oldest news and history he could read in as short a time as possible. But his agitation would not let him sit. He needed to vent. He tightened his boot straps and slipped on a pair of gloves.

He remembered the rehabilitation center on level six south of the geriatrics ward there at Medbay. Standing almost isolated from the rest of the complex, Rehab claimed the same amount of space as three private housing districts. There were sixteen huge holodecks, eight gyms, four indoor basketball courts, four indoor pools, twenty-six saunas, twenty-six Jacuzzis and one football field. Most of the Rehab was filled beyond capacity during the day as classes were held for the public and private sectors outside the Complex.

Kyle managed to reserve holodeck nine to himself. But he suspected it was more because of VIP privileges rather than a list of first-come-first-serve. Not that it was fair, but Kyle was very grateful nonetheless.

"Computer," he called and a bleep echoed in answer, "Uhm, I'd like to try one of Captain Steve Parker's programs."

SPECIFY

Kyle swept a dragonrod from the wall. "I think it's called Duality."

REQUIREMENTS: DRAGONROD. SINGLE PLAYER ON FIRST LEVEL. PROTECTIVE JOINT GEAR.

That was what he was after. The doors slid open and he entered, bearing the dragonrod; a heavy battle axe with a crescent blade at both ends.

The room greeted him with an ancient ruins theme. Stone slabs covered in overgrowth squatted in some semblance of order. A dreary grey sky brewed overhead and the floor grounded under his feet with the burden of old crumbling bricks and dirt.

A holographic humanoid stomped its way toward Kyle. It sized him up and down, sneered and made a defensive stance.

Kyle sized him up too and shook his head. "This is too easy." He complained under his breath. He let it attack first and he whacked its midriff with the flat side of the axe. The opponent stumbled back, rebounded and thrust at the doctor. Kyle deflected easily and sliced its head off. The humanoid sizzled out of existence and Kyle frowned.

"Computer, next level, please."

Two guys jumped out from nowhere. Kyle sliced one down the front side and kicked the other in the center then also decapitated it.

"No. Computer, next level."

Steve rendezvoused with his wife at a familiar café. Well, he remembered the café, but not her. And once again, they fell to the same frustrating argument; he simply could not remember her. She brought photo albums this time and holographic recordings of parties and places they had visited over the years.

The hour he spent with her was very trying. Finally, she agreed they would discuss it later when he had been able to handle other business first.

But honestly, Steve did not know how to deal with the fact that he was married; nor that he once loved someone and could not remember her. So Captain Parker turned to the one thing that was most familiar to him; an old friend.

Steve made a beeline for Medbay and straight to Kyle's office. But Doctor Scott was not there. Steve checked the roster but Kyle had not signed in, meaning he was not there in the organics wing. He turned to the reception desk on level four.

The four-armed receptionist greeted him with a quick smile just as she answered the phone. She gave Doctor Neth the room his patient was in and turned to Steve.

"Looking for Kyle." Parker raised his left brow.

She tapped a few keys at the computer and answered the phone again while another doctor asked her for a report on the emergency lines coming in at two P.M. She handed him that and drank a sip of coffee.

"Doctor Scott is not here today, Captain Parker, I'm sorry."

"He's not home, either." Steve informed quietly. "The man has to be here somewhere. Kyle won't go anywhere else."

She nodded politely and tapped at the computer again and answered the phone with another hand and scribbled a note all at the same time. She turned to him again. "Rehab." She nodded, staring at the computer with some perplexity. "Rehab." She repeated. "Kinda odd. Kyle rarely goes there unless he's jogging around the track."

Steve patted the counter top. "Thanks"

Kyle was hardly tired. One level followed another. He just beat five guys attacking him at once and they all sizzled out the same fashion as the first. Either Steve's program was sissy-stuff, or . . .

Doctor Scott laughed at himself.

The doors opened and Steve's figure silhouetted against the glaring outside light. "Hey." he greeted.

Kyle twirled the dragonrod once. "Hey." He returned.

"Heard you were hanging around. Thought I'd come and see what you were up to."

Kyle smiled humorlessly. "I thought I'd blow some steam. This program of yours sucks."

"Is that so?" Steve entered, wearing protective gear, but bearing no weapon. The doors clanged behind him, completing the scene again. He folded his arms and stared at Kyle, his left brow rising.

Kyle slightly lifted his chin. "Computer," he called. "Level eight."

Steve turned cold, but did not allow his shock to hold back his response: "Computer, belay that. Replicate one dragonrod weight: forty pounds."

A dragonrod appeared from nowhere and Steve took it up. "Level eight, Doctor Scott?" He spired. "I don't think so."

Kyle twirled the rod once again and set the corners of his mouth. He was ready for a fight-a real fight. His eyes went dead set against Steve. If Parker needed some exercise . . .

Steve took stock of Kyle's stance: Relaxed, positioned correctly. But Kyle had a blind side at the left knee. Steve went for that first and found himself not only swiftly deflected, but forced to defend himself at the ankle and again at the neck. They stood still again, sizing one another. This time Kyle attacked, aiming for the waist and again at the head. Steve parried and ducked then came back for Kyle's left arm. Kyle blocked him and kicked him in the chin. Steve fell back and sprang right back up.

Kyle meant business.

Parker moved his lower jaw back and forth. "Nice." He congratulated. "Maybe you are level eight material after all."

He jumped back when a blade nearly sliced him in half. He stepped in with a right swing, the rods clanged hard and Steve nearly nicked Kyle across the chest. Kyle kicked his weapon, but Parker held it too skillfully for that kind of tactic.

Kyle still got him by the ankles, kicking Parker off his feet. Scott swung up and Parker rolled as the bladed weapon plunged into the ground he lay on seconds ago. Steve backrolled and came back with a broad upperstroke that could have shattered Kyle's lower jaw.

Kyle dropped to a hard right, doing half a cartwheel then snapped right back out with the other end of the rod. Steve leapt and jabbed, sinking the blade into a nearby tree, missing Kyle by inches.

Scott rounded the tree, breathing heavily as the two paused a moment.

"Now what do you think of my program?" Steve asked.

"It still sucks." Kyle joked. "All the opponents have the same ugly face-yours."

Steve silently pointed at Kyle. Now he was in trouble. Steve jumped at him and jabbed for the midriff. He was deflected. Uppercut. Block. Lowpoint. Block. Left, right, middle, left, left, and one turn, one jab, one thrust after another was met with a block and a similar move from Kyle. The rods swung in the air with a deadly swishing sound and clang hard, angry metal against angry metal until Steve pulled a level twelve maneuver, ducking, jabbing and swung up with his right foot, kicking in the waist and butt the center of the rod hard into Kyle's chest, knocking Scott's wind right out of him. Kyle fell back, stunned. He dropped his weapon and lay very still as Steve swung up for the final blow. The blade came within three inches of Kyle's face and froze.

Kyle closed his eyes. If Steve had lost once simple ounce of concentration and control, he would have been killed.

Steve held himself tightly. He shuddered from adrenaline overdose and it took him a moment to come down from it. He slowly retrieved the blade from Kyle and stabbed the ground in victory.

But Steve did not feel victorious. He collapsed to his knees and stared at Kyle, gasping for breath. "Kyle." he coughed once. "If I hadn't seen it and experienced it myself, I would never in my life believed it."

"What?" Kyle slowly pulled himself up, shaking. He dusted his hands.

"This. Up until this moment, you have never gone beyond a level six. I just tested you at level ten. Wanna explain that?"

Kyle's eyes widened in astonishment. He turned cold. "Good day?" He guessed.

Steve shook his head in turn. He did not want to know.

The intercom beeped just then. DOCTOR SCOTT? Came a nurse's voice.

"Here!" Kyle answered as he and Steve stood.

"PATIENT TO SEE YOU IN ROOM 1120."

"On my way."

Steve lifted his left brow. "Thought you were going to take the day off."

Kyle smiled wryly. "They do that only for certain patients."

"Ah-huh."

Kayla puttered about her quarters for two hours after arriving home from the miserable meeting. Everyone around her wallowed in the same dour mood and it wore her out. The empath poured herself a cup of hot cocoa and opened a package of apple chips. She collapsed into her couch and turned the TV on. At first she ignored it, just surfing through channels, coasting through soap-operas, sports and documentaries (most of which are pirated from Earth and Centauri TV). She ignored the kiddie puppet shows and Captain Kangaroo and finally found the news.

" . . . while trade is at an all-time high on Cybertron, some sources say tough times are ahead. With the unusual pirate ships that appear from nowhere, attack and leave, it means precious patrolling resources will have to be expanded to include most trade routes to and from Cybertronian space lanes just to insure desperately needed supplies arrive safely. Prathos of Strata-Mainframe reporting for CNN.

The scene shifted to the anchor reporter, a fellow in dark tan skin and white hair. He stared into the camera without expression. "More mysterious deaths reported in West Central today. Doctors from Medbay are puzzled over the oddity of the crimes, calling the events 'Red jack murders'. Twenty-six people were found dead when a shuttle crash-landed outside the main landing strip outside the city. Workers were not injured, but all twenty-six passengers were found dead at the scene. Critics point fingers to Doctor Kyle Scott who earlier had warned the medical community of a possible threat concerning a murderous poltergeist loose on the planet. While authorities refuse to comment, sources suggest the ordeal is under intense investigation."

Kayla rolled her eyes and shut the TV off, sinking into her cushiony couch. She sipped her cocoa and thought about Chenobis, the dead man she found yet standing.

Kayla took another sip of the comforting warm drink. Kyle had lost a dangerous amount of blood and Steve had that odd look in his eye, as though . . . as though something were robbed from him. Their escape was nothing short of miraculous, now that she thought of it. It was so coincidental that Steve and Kyle should end up escaping the ship right in the same area as she and Jill.

Kayla had lost faith in the gods hundreds of years ago. But now . . . now she started to wonder.

She set her empty cup on the floor, folded her hands and fell asleep.

**Here! Come and witness this great triumph!** The cold voice filled Kayla and she shuddered, but had no choice. She unwittingly participated in witnessing an event.

Quintessons floated round about the table, the room nearly completely dark other than that. A poor Human female lay strapped to the table, her legs spread as she prepared to give birth. The five-faced monsters all gathered round her as though she were an animal, paying no mind to her screams and cries.

Then it happened.

And Kayla thought she was going to be sick.

The poor woman gave birth, alright-to a miniature version of the five-faced monsters around her.

**Success!** One Quint declared, its tentacles flaying in unrestrained excitement.

**Yes.** Another agreed. **We now understand the use and versatility of this organic species. We can order bounty hunters to begin collecting other females of this species. Through them, we may increase our numbers successfully.**

**Wait!** A third Quint called. In his tentacles, a scanner bleeped in alert mode. **Someone is sending a mental transmission.**

**Find it!** The Second Quint ordered. **Kill it!**

And they searched the room. Kayla hid in the shadows of her prison, but her eyes did not leave the sight of the poor woman, now dead from neglect. Three other caged creatures squealed in protest as the Quints prodded for information, trying to pinpoint the source of telepathy.

And they found her.

**Here!** Declared the one with the scanner. Two of its comrades peered into the cage and Kayla realized she too was pregnant. She held her head high. She was going to die, liberated from further tests and degrading treatment. One Quint simply passed a spear through the energon bars and cut off her head.

Kayla shot from the couch and screamed.

Doctor Scott didn't need to ask how she felt. Her pale face and clammy skin told a good part of the story. He rolled a seat in front of her and silently examined her first, checking her lymph nodes, then her temperature.

"It was real." She said softly. "I was there, Kyle. I was really there."

Kyle's dark brown eyes drifted from her to her Dokiah Interface.

"A dream." Spellbinder answered softly. "She woke up screaming and I couldn't calm her down."

"I was in a cage and pregnant and I watched another woman, a Humanoid female, give birth to a Quintesson and they found out I was sending a telepathic message across space and then they sliced off my head."

Kayla was not the kind of person to give into imaginative fears. She was as down-to-reality as Steve. Kyle took her hands into his, her cold skin no doubt glad for his warm touch. "I am not going to discredit your experiences, Kayla." He said quietly. "More than any of us, you are most sensitive to extra-sensory perceptions."

Kayla swallowed hard, her lips almost as white as the paper sheet she sat on. "Are you saying that what I saw might be real?"

Kyle didn't answer her right away. He believed her but he wasn't sure how Spellbinder would take his answer. "I think it's possible." He finally replied.

It did help to ease her distress. Kayla wasn't crazy, everyone knew that. Much of her trembling slowed.

"Go home, Kayla." Kyle instructed. "Take a bath, put on your jammies and watch some TV. I think you'll feel better tomorrow."

Kayla smiled at the 'jammies' word. "Thank you, Kyle." She slid off the table and picked up her coat.

------------------------------------

Midnight was so sorry he could do nothing to protect his soul-mate. He did what he thought was the best way to ease Steve's suffering: he forced Steve to drink a glass of poison.

He promised it wouldn't hurt. Steve would just go to sleep and never wake.

Steve wept, begging Midnight not to make him drink it. He could just move on, live elsewhere-maybe Kyle would let him stay with him for a while.

But it was unacceptable. Midnight didn't want to be seen as vulnerable. And Steve was a weakness. And so he forced Steve on his back and poured the drink in his mouth and Steve wept, begging, begging.

Steve woke crying. He felt so helpless, so vulnerable compared to the giant robotic creature. He would be forced to die without a choice. He gathered his arms about himself, cuddled in his chair.

Realizing he was in a chair, it dawned on Parker he was dreaming. His eyes caught sight of a framed piece of metal proudly hanging from the opposite wall. He was safely in his own quarters. Audience laughter spilt from the TV but it did not catch Steve's attention. The Captain stared at the slice of metal, one of few pieces left of Braintrust. He shuddered weakly and tried to tell himself everything was just a really bad dream. But it left him cold.

------------------------------------

Three days passed but the Tentchi held no other meetings. Steve was called back to the council meetings

The last thing Steve wanted was to hear was another hour-long rant concerning the Nagk. The trading embargo enraged several other planets, stating Cybertron had no right to impose such a treatment upon business. The problem was, the Nagk had been caught red-handed intercepting and stealing and/or destroying supplies to other worlds. Optimus accused them of high-rolling piracy. Naturally, the Nagk were outraged. They demanded a hearing-they got one on Emright, but now they didn't want to wait for Emright. They demanded the meeting be held there on Cybertron in a sterilized environment.

Steve did not want to hear it, no matter what Midnight said. He did not want to attend.

And for all the resistance Parker put up, Kyle still did not hear anything from him.

Doctor Scott kept busy, however. Immersed into his own past, Kyle struggled to piece things back together. But it was slow, very slow.

Kyle heard himself laugh in the recorded journal. He thumbed through folders and files and re-familiarized himself with his computer and every other nook and corner of his office in Medbay. Actually, Doctor Scott mused, his office was more a mega-library than the libraries Downstairs.

"Will you stop? I have to record this!" he heard his own voice break over laughter. "Okay . . . Um, we're on this wonderful exotic planet full of-Steve, put the crab down. Okay. We are on oceanfront property and believe it or not, the water here is BLACK. And Steve can't pretend he's an adult long enough for me to make this entry."

Scott grinned. It was one of very few happy entries in his extensive recorded journal. So far he had heard all of twenty recordings. Three days after Kayla's vision, things seemed to have settled. No signs of mischief from the dog-beasts and Kyle wondered if they were planning something else, or busy elsewhere.

"Kyle?" Steve called over the recording. "Lookit."

"What?"

"Found a hermit crab."

"How do you know it's a hermit crab?" Kyle's voice came with amusement.

"I know."

"Well, I doubt it'll come out of its shell, Steve."

"Oh . . .well there's a little trick to that. You see, you never ever force the hermit out of his shell; you allow him to come out. You just hold him like so and sooner or later, he starts to feel secure and-ah-see? there's the little guy's antennae. He's checking the place out. Now, we just talk to him, soft, slow. We don't demand anything. Hello little fellow."

A space of silence crossed the recording and Kyle smiled then heard himself greet the hermit crab. "Hi, fella. Pretty thing, isn't it?"

Just faintly Kyle could hear Jill's voice call from a distance and Steve said something about food. The recording ended and Kyle shut the machine off. He had no memory of the incident, but hearing it made him feel good.

He rounded his desk and sat in the chair, thumbing lazily through folders, reacquainting himself with names and faces and dates. He took particular notice how many of Medbay's latest cases seemed to have sleeping problems. Kyle tucked that thought away for a later time and read up on all the patients from one wing of Medbay's organic section to the other.

He closed his eyes for a moment.

The dim light echoed a terrible sound of distant coldness and fear. Ghosts of the dead and injured touched him all over and Kyle wanted to wash himself of it.

The death stank, not so much in a smell as it was a feeling. He could feel the death, he could feel the filth of the tortured females as their bodies were invaded and forced to bear things unnatural to their own species.

Cold light.

Cold light.

And a name from deep, deep in his subconsciousness.

But the name came blocked by someone else's imposition.

Kyle found himself trapped in a dream within a dream and the dream liquefied into a terrible memory dark and forbidden by ancient walls of sentient will.

They were tests, weren't they? And Steve was there, wasn't he? Old. Old. Old.

Fabin.

Fabin.

And the Fabin traded off and on with another creature, a creepy dark creature resembling sort of a frog-like bodies, biped in nature, huge triangular faces and large bulging eyes. Forked black -

Kyle lurched, but trapped in the dream, he could not break free. He remembered the tongues . . . one kissed him as he lay bound to a table. They-the Fabin-had broken his hands and were not merciful in their torture. They drained his blood and put it back before he died.

Kyle gasped for air, struggling to pull out of the trapped dream. He felt himself fall to the floor in front of his desk and he still could not break free.

"THEY'RE FLYING!"

"THEY'RE FLYING!"

And they came, riding over the cloud-bounded sky, things on wings buzzed like insects from the bowels of places unspoken by sentient tongues. And they came by the millions, amassing across the great cities, they encircled the building and set them afire and the people died as they ran. Fire and smoke, destruction-Doctor Scott recalled a word from his own home world-Tachnau-planetary destruction. The Earth equivalent to an apocalypse.

And they drained his blood again-and somewhere else in his mind, a terrible, terrible sin was committed-a memory locked down so tightly Kyle's conscious mind could not bear it if it were ever uncovered. Something even Voodoo could not comprehend. Kyle instinctively nailed another barrier between it and his mind. For if he ever remembered the incident, if he ever brought it out of that one tiny space in his soul, Kyle believed he would plunge straight into a coma.

And once again he tried to surface, tried to pull out of the dream he could not rise from. Wake up! His unconscious mind told him. You're laying on the floor of your office! You must get up! Breathe! You must call for help! Breathe! Breathe!

And the music continued to lure him back from surface unconsciousness. It tried to pull him back under. He tumbled down, down . . . like a drowning victim . . . and somewhere there he felt something begin to change him inside.

"You are ours, Doctor Scott, mind, body and soul. Ours . . . ours. You belong to us."

. . . SsssssSteve . . . he dismally thought. And for some reason he started to weep, pleading for someone, anyone to help him. He reached up and wrapped his hands round the back of his head.

And the ran'kas tramped the ground with sure-footedness. A bloodied sun dipped beyond the smoky horizon. The battle ground wallowed in blood and death; one of many hundreds of battlefields. The cities burned in the late of night, the hillsides groaned under the weight of the dead.

And blood splattered the wall as they hacked his mother to pieces before his eyes and Kyle-Ptysar-swore with all his soul the freak aliens would pay and pay and pay and pay and pay.

Kyle's eyes opened, his body now so weak he could not so much as lift his hands.

A stream of water and blood slipped into the room and flowed silently around the desk and nestled under Kyle's arm. A face formed, staring at Doctor Scott eye to eye.

"Ours." it said. "Mind, body and soul. You will become a part of me and me, you and sooner or later you will not be able to tell where you end and I begin. We will become a part of each other."

And the thing washed itself over Kyle's languid form, warm and liquid-like without feeling wet.

Kyle thought it was like being raped.

Doctor Scott woke again much later, finding himself laying on a couch Downstairs. A thick warm blanket lay over him and Voodoo sat dutifully beside him, one finger under Kyle's left hand.

Nothing. A presence but no sound and it choked Doctor Scott. He had been cut off from the voice in his soul and the resulting emptiness consumed him. Kyle hid his face in shame as tears refused to be held back.

"I can't hear you anymore!" He sobbed softly. "It's all silent!" Voodoo gently gathered him into his arms, saying nothing. Kyle relaxed, longing to phase, and knowing in his

heart they could no longer do even that. The Dokiah bowed his body over Kyle as if to protect his love from spying eyes. He could think of nothing to say to consol Kyle's grief.

And hours turned toward the next day.

Kyle woke again, finding Voodoo's hunched form folded over him. Voodoo had long since shut down himself and Kyle could only guess his partner was just as devastated as he. Kyle did not want Voodoo to go anywhere anymore. His hand softly stroked the metal under him, searching almost unconsciously for some gentle stimulation. The separation left him so alone, so cut off from a constant stream of encouragement and support.

Kyle sighed and nearly fell asleep again when Voodoo stirred and sat up. He gave his partner a weak smile.

Voodoo did not return the smile. He scanned Kyle's life signs, unhappy at Kyle's weakened condition.

"Something touched you, Kyle." Voodoo somberly whispered. "I actually felt it. You were falling from me entirely." He carefully laid Kyle on the library couch and shifted to his knees.

"I . . . I was caught in a dream I couldn't get out of." Kyle's voice was equally as soft, but weaker. "I was so terrified-"

"A nurse found you laying on the floor unconscious, but crying."

"It was all over me." Kyle quickly answered. "I felt it all over my skin. It was horrible."

"You had a memory lapse." Voodoo pressed.

Kyle frowned. "No I didn't."

"Yes, you did."

Kyle shook his head. "No. I had no-"

"Kyle, you had a memory lapse-you remembered the Fabin."

"How do you know?"

"I know. Our link maybe only thirty percent, but I can still feel things, if only remotely. I felt your fears. I thought . . . " Voodoo shook his head and stared at the floor.

"What?" Kyle whispered. "What?"

"I . . . I thought it was something you would not remember. You and Steve and Ray were in such terrible shock-"

"They broke my hands." Kyle came right back.

"Yes." Voodoo whispered.

"And they did other things, didn't they?"

Voodoo could not answer.

"Who were they, Voodoo?"

"Merchants." Voodoo made the word sound like a spitting word. "Like the Harvesters. But the Fabin like to play with their prey. They changed Ray's blood type entirely. He was sick for years."

"What triggered the memory?" Kyle started feeling better, now, not quite so afraid. He sat up, his back to the couch and crossed his legs. But he drew the blanket close for emotional security.

"I don't know." Voodoo answered with the same soft voice. "Maybe something Ptysar did or said to you. Maybe something else you might have dreamed. Trapped in a dream in a dream . . .dark places with terrible lights . . . and the sound of a music not quite melodic."

"Voodoo, stop." Kyle swallowed hard, not wanting to remember.

Voodoo slowly closed his mouth. He stared at Kyle who read a chilling sadness in his Partner's expression.

Kyle's eyes narrowed and he carefully thought over Voodoo's words-and dared remember just glimpses of the nightmare. "You." He whispered. "Part of what I was remembering was what you were going through . . ." And Kyle struggled again, a little more deeply, a little more daring. But he felt no fear, so long as Voodoo was there with him. "They pulled you apart." He surmised. "Didn't they? The music . . . they used ultrasonic frequencies to dis . . . member . . . " Kyle shut his mouth, understanding the music, the dreaded sounds in the cold. "Oh, Voodoo." He choked and whispered, tears dimmed his eyes. "Voodoo."

Voodoo took Kyle home to let him rest more comfortably. He knew he should have done that earlier, but at the time, all the Sentinel could think about was holding his love. Kyle hoped no one would reprimand his partner for his fears.

Scott decided to 'order out' rather than bother trying to come up with something to cook.

"Chinese." Voodoo cheerfully input. "You always liked Chinese."

"How do you know?" The doctor smiled as he scanned the net for a place.

"I know everything." Voodoo beamed.

"I'll bet." Doctor Scott grinned, his eyes glued to the computer. "Just anything, then?"

"Well, I know you like Peking. You raved about their wonton soup."

Kyle typed in the name of the restaurant and sure enough, it popped up and boasted of branch restaurants in West Central, Strata-Mainframe and Below-and branches opening in the newer cities. Kyle clicked on the menu and stared at it. It all looked like a jumbled mess and he shook his head, not knowing what to do.

"It's written in English." Voodoo knelt next to his partner.

"I can't read English, Voodoo."

"You don't have to, Kyle. You just click . . ." He took the mouse and hit file on the task bar and scanned down until he clicked TRANSLATION. The screen melted and popped back up into Cybertronian. Kyle gave Voodoo a grateful smile and it warmed Voodoo's heart. He gazed at the screen with his partner and gazed over the menu. "Uhm . . . looks like menu Number Five is a good one. You like stuff that's a little spicy-"

Kyle quietly laughed.

"What's funny?" Voodoo asked.

"You. Do you know everything about me?"

Voodoo gently took Kyle's hand and the touch swept through Kyle's body like a cool breeze under a warm afternoon sun. It sent chills down Kyle's back and he found he could not tell if it was his reaction, or stimulation from his Dokiah. "Six thousand years is a relatively short time compared to our life span, Kyle. It is precious to me. We've had our ups and downs like the other Interfaces. But I'm the lucky one, Kyle. I'm the lucky one."

The delivery girl brought Kyle a veritable feast he wasn't anticipating. But Doctor Scott found he was hungrier than he thought and Voodoo was glad his partner was able to eat anything at all.

"You're right." Kyle confirmed, "They do make wonderful soup." He paused, picking at the cashew chicken. "It's sorta odd how things like this exist on a planet that's dominated by buildings and machines."

"Imports." Voodoo shrugged. "The Council sees to it that the Humanoid population is well cared for."

Kyle looked puzzled. "Why?"

"Humans are essential to Cybertron. They have given us a culture Transformers have never had in millions of years of war."

Kyle stared at Voodoo for a long moment then harrumphed in mild amusement.

"What?" Voodoo smiled, only able to guess what's going through the Doctor's mind. It was maddening not being able to tell what Kyle was thinking at any given moment.

"It sounds like . . . I don't know . . . a petting zoo and you have to keep feeding the animals somehow."

Voodoo's face lit up as though he were about to burst laughing. But he did not. "Humans have enriched our lives, Kyle. As a Human, you have such a wonderful way of seeing the universe. Before meeting you, all I really cared about was flying and fighting and exploring. But . . . I never really stopped to think about things like . . . bugs and flowers."

Kyle smirked, trying to keep closed a mouth full of food. He nearly swallowed everything whole. "Bugs and flowers, Voodoo?" He asked with a smile and a sip of tea.

Voodoo smiled more broadly and wondered what else he could say to make Kyle laugh.

The night moved on in a peaceful silence. Voodoo was glad he decided to just stay with Kyle. He knew the workers needed him at South Continent, but Kyle was far more important.

Voodoo watched Kyle for several hours while Scott leafed through photo albums, examined books hidden inside bookshelves in wall panels. Voodoo hoped the Doctor would go to sleep sooner or later. But Kyle merely laid on the couch his eyes slowly opened and closed as the stereo softly played one of many thousands of recordings. Finally Scott drew a deep breath and opened his eyes, staring back at his partner. He forced a smile.

"Babysitting does not become you, Voodoo." he quietly teased.

"No." The Sentinel agreed. "But I'm not sitting a baby. I'm guarding my Ten-she . . . or whatever-"

"Tentchi." Kyle corrected. "It's a short 'N'

Voodoo smiled. He knew that, but he liked to give Kyle a hard time whenever possible. He sat closer to Kyle and ran his finger along the carpet. "Sometimes . . ." he started carefully, "Sometimes I wish I could shrink down to your size, Kyle. Just for once. Just . . . just so I can hold you while you sleep. Just so I can hold you with my whole body, not just my hands. Just once I'd like to sleep with you in my arms and wake before you do and hold you while you sleep." He ran his finger over Kyle's hair, watching as Kyle's eyes started to fall under the power of sleep. "Just sometimes." he repeated softly and smiled grimly as Kyle's eyes finally fell shut and he passed on into a dark rest.

The hours slipped away. Voodoo laid Kyle in his own bed and tucked the covers about his Tentchi's small frame. Kyle was so small, so frail, fading from Voodoo's consciousness like daylight eroding into the impenetrable darkness of a winter night.

I can still feel him, the Sentinel tried to comfort himself. He's still there. But it was a very small comfort. He thought they were through all that, he thought that with their phasing, it reestablished their link.

But . . . but it was a phenomenon for which no one had an answer. Was he losing Kyle?

Voodoo sat against the nearby wall, resolute in his determination to stay conscious until Kyle woke again. But one hour slipped into another and since Cybertron had no sun to tell night from day, it didn't matter when people slept . . . and before he realized it, Voodoo faded into a state of rest, the house still active by means of the stereo playing soft melodies.

Some time later, Voodoo thought he heard something in the back of his mind. It grew louder until he awakened and found Kyle whimpering in agony. Voodoo sat on his knees and activated his night vision.

"Kyle?" He softly called. "Kyle, what's wrong?"

Scott buried his head under his arms and blankets. "My head's going to explode, Voodoo." He murmured weakly. He whimpered and moved as though the pain would decease if he left the bed. He lifted his head slightly and Voodoo gaped at the bloodied sheets and pillow. He started to object when Kyle simply passed out.

Voodoo panicked. He laid his hand on Kyle's back. "Kyle?" He called. "Kyle! No! Don't do this! Don't do this! Kyle, don't leave me!"

His gaze bounced off the walls in the bedroom, searching frantically for an answer. "Oh, Primus! What am I supposed to do? No! I don't want you to go . . . Kyle, I-I'd rather you not be Interfaced with me than be dead!" Voodoo's optics bounced off Kyle's desk in the front room and he remembered to call Medbay. He dashed to the visiphone and called Jill.

"Come on!" He ordered desperately. The screen blinked on as Jill yawned from sleep.

"V?" She greeted groggily. "V, what's wrong?"

"Kyle . . . he's bleeding and he passed out." Voodoo's patterned skin vibrated, his hidden optics flashed.

"Okay. Bring him into Medbay. I'll meet you there on the landing strip."

Voodoo didn't worry about phone protocol. He abandoned the desk and returned to Kyle, checking pulse and life signs. Scott was still alive, but Voodoo had no idea if he suffered brain damage or not. He carefully wrapped Kyle in clean blankets and cupped his love's tiny body in his hands. Voodoo made it just outside the threshold of the patio when his knees gave out in grief. He bowed over, gently holding Kyle as close to his body as he dared. "Don't leave me." He begged in a whisper.

It took a couple more moments before Voodoo managed to pull himself together. He forced himself on his feet and carefully transformed around Kyle and took off.

Jill did not want to do anything but find the very best pillow on Cybertron, fall into it and just sleep. Finally after nine hundred milligrams of sleep medication and three cups of herbal tea, she found herself wrapped in merciful darkness.

Then Voodoo called and she snapped wide awake and scampering to put on fresh clothes and gloves. She alerted Compton, the ER CO, and they hastily organized staff to make way for the Sentinel's landing

They raced to the wind-beaten landing strip the second Voodoo touched its dark metal surface. Nurses and specialists dashed to and fro, shouting signs, reactions and orders between them. Voodoo sat on his knees, watching them carry his love away. The Sentinel covered his face in despair and bowed over. A terrible coldness settled over his heart and Voodoo felt the link bleed.

Kyle opened his eyes as someone laid and oxygen mask over him. He weakly struggled to lift his left hand and a nurse patted it back down as Hashu administered a stimulant.

". . . Steve . . ." Kyle weakly murmured.

Jill batted her eyes against the noise around them. "Shh, Kyle, we're here with you, it'll be-"

" . . . Steve, Jill. We've Touched."

Jill's knitted in dread.

Steve trudged up one lonely hill under the hydroponics terradome. It was his favorite place because from its flat top, a person can stare down fifty feet into the park's gorgeous vista of foliage.

Steve sat against one of the older trees and tried to see beyond the glass and transparent titanium dome that contained the little green world and its simulated sunshine.

He managed to steal just a little time to himself. Another meeting was supposed to commence, something about the Mayor in Below being accused of something . . . Parker didn't have details and he didn't care. Everything seemed so complicated and it drove him nuts. He was married to a beautiful, exotic woman, of whom he had no memories. Parker felt Midnight's anxiety trickle down their quieting link. Something was wrong, but Steve could offer his friend no comfort. Kyle was drifting from him, further and further . . .

Steve knew a lot of people, most of them were friends and many others he had high regards for. But Kyle was sorta special. Not just because Scott had saved Steve's life more times than Steve could possibly count, but because Kyle himself was a dynamic individual.

Always the quiet ones, Steve mused darkly. He stood and started to retreat from his moment of solitude when pain lacerated his brain. The sudden impact threw Steve off his feet and he fell forward, clutching his head.

_STEVE!_ Midnight called. _STEVE! WHAT'S GOING on? Steve? . . . steve? . . .st . . ._

Something sliced his back down the vertebrae. Parker weakly arched his back, struggling for breath and tried to see past the blood in his eyes. More pain radiated from his head down his back and with each wave, his awareness of Midnight faded further and further.

Steve collapsed, unable to move. Please, he begged inwardly. Please help me. He lay there in the green grass, thinking of Kyle . . . lying in Medbay.

------------------------------------

He was a child lost in a huge city. The buildings towered over him like gods, the inhabitants stared at him from their lofty heights. He mentally called and called and called for Voodoo. But no answer came.

Something sliced the skin off Kyle's back and he crashed to his knees. His breath failed and he could not cry out. Suddenly, the silence between he and Voodoo increased a million fold and he was utterly alone. The void devoured him. He was no longer Kyle Scott. Some power, some great thing tore away that which made him who and what he was. Now he was nothing, just a shadow passing through a dimension, a wisp in the wind.

Nothing.

And he wept because his existence was forgotten . . . it must have been forgotten because no one called him by name.

Something from a distant place heard him cry, though. It Reached and just kindly touched him. Shame and embarrassment made Kyle retreat from the Touch. But the contact was made. The Touch found him again and Kyle realized there was no running away from it. He let it Reach him one more time, though fearful it would rape him, steal away even his name and leave his tattered self-consciousness to the winds of non-existence.

But no such thing happened. Instead, the Touch wrapped itself about him and embraced him tightly in equal fear.

Kyle was stunned. The Touch embraced him as though for dear life.

Steve.

Kyle sensed a presence nearby. His bed was warm and comfortable. He had no notion of time or day, except that by the sounds pouring from the hall, he knew he was in Medbay, fourth floor, second wing and it was 'day' shift. He tried to open his eyes but found them covered. His hands were bound securely to the bed rails. Someone checked his temperature and he opened his mouth to say something.

"You've been out cold for two days, Doctor Scott." Came a firm voice from someone he did not recognize.

Kyle fought against the restraints. "What happened?" he asked anxiously. "I was home with Voodoo and-"

"We finally sent him to get a little rest. He hasn't rested in nearly a week, or so I've been told. Just take it easy, Kyle. You'll be fine."

Kyle twisted his hands against the restraints and inwardly cussed. "I don't want to be fine." He spat sternly. "I-I need to get out of here."

"And do what, Doctor Scott?" The nurse returned the tone. "You're still recovering from the incident on Chenobis. You were brought in because of cranial hemorrhaging. They STILL don't know what caused it, or if you'll have seizures because of it. It's a wonder you didn't have a stroke."

Kyle shook his head, frustrated because he couldn't see anything around him, irritated because they insisted on restraining him (Gatchel's, idea no doubt) and anxious because he sensed something terrible was about to happen. _Voodoo!_ he called. _Voodoo?_

Ghastly silence. As broad and deep and long as the vastness of space, the void in his soul ached as if a limb had been torn from his body. Someone broke into him and ripped out his guts. Kyle slammed his head against his pillow once and gasped for breath.

"Keep it up, and we'll have to sedate you again." The nurse warned.

"Again?" Kyle echoed.

"We've been through this three times already, Doctor Scott-"

"I wasn't aware . . . did Voodoo say when-"

"I'm sorry, Doctor Scott, I have other patients waiting. You will have to calm down, that's all there is to it."

"Where's Jill?"

"On sedatives. Good-bye, Doctor."

Help me! He thought, I can't even cry if I wanted to! Where is Voodoo! Where? He strained against the bonds holding his hands. He HATED the restraints! He squirmed and yanked to no avail, his whole body proved powerless against them and he wept, still unable to shed any tears.

_Shhh._ and the Touch came back and embraced him.

Kyle about jumped out of his skin. "Who's that!" He shouted. "Who's there!"

"Are you alright, Doctor Scott?" Another nurse asked.

"No! I'm not alright! Who's in the room with me! I want out of here!"

"Take it easy, Doctor Scott, you'll be fine. Just relax."

He was hallucinating. Kyle lifted his chin toward the ceiling in frustration. What was wrong with him?

_Kyle, hush. It's alright. We're alright._ a completely different voice . . . came over his link. Not Voodoo.

Kyle lost his wind. _ . . . . . . . . . Steve?_ he dared _Steve-!_

_Sh. I'm trying to sleep. Hush. _

_But- _

_Go back to sleep, Kyle. We'll talk later. Hush. Sleep._

------------------------------------

Kyle woke again some time later. Utensils tapped against metal plates as someone set a tray of dishes on the nearby cart.

_Get a load of this idiot, Kyle._ Steve's voice came back to haunt him. _You're right, he's a pompous snot-box of self-indulgence. I'll bet he sleeps with threesomes. _

Kyle shook his head, unable to bat his eyes in disbelief. _Steve? _

_Yup. _

_ . . . how? _

_Don't know. Except that something blew my head open. Or at least, it felt like it. _

_Me too. . . .telepathy? _

_I don't know, Kyle. Honestly. Oh, you'll love this: Gatchel is giving me a lecture on safety-going out to the park by myself. What a blockhead! I'm willing to bet he listens to Country music at night, has a picture of his mother in hair curlers sitting on his desk at home and talks to himself while he watches TV. I'm even willing to bet he wears bikini underwear. You're a boxers kinda guy, Kyle, whaddya think? _

Kyle about died laughing. _Stop it! You're killing me! And how do you know I wear boxers? _

_Hey! I've been around you for four thousand years, I do know a few things about you! Oh! Ohmigod, Kyle, this guy just picked his nose and ate it! And in front of ME! _

Kyle laughed harder and squirmed against the restraints.

"Kyle?" Jill's voice pulled it all to a screeching halt, but Kyle had a hard time trying to stop laughing. He kept seeing Gatchel in a bikini. The guy's form was slim enough to fit into one, no doubt . . . but Gatchel was so ugly, Kyle was sure only the guy's mother would approve.

Kyle drew a deep breath and tried to control himself. "Jill! Jill, I'm so glad to hear you. Something goofy is going on. Why are my eyes bound like this?"

McKennan forced a smile over her face. "Your eyes were bleeding, Kyle. They don't know why. So . . . what's so funny?"

"Uhm . . ." Kyle didn't know how to explain it, if he should tell anyone at all.

_No._ Steve objected. _Don't say anything until we know ourselves. It could be a fluke. _

_You mean we could just be a part of one another's figments._ Kyle returned.

_I don't hallucinate like this, Kyle. You know that. And neither do you. _

Kyle drew a deep breath. "I was just thinking of Gatchel running down the hall wearing a pair of bikini underwear." He answered Jill's inquiry.

Jill's brows wrinkled. "Kyle, you need to get out more."

Up to this point, Kyle thought he knew Steven Marcus Parker. But everything he thought he knew fell by the proverbial wayside each time Steve said something-especially when a nurse attended him.

_This ol' girl hasn't 'had any' in several weeks. I can tell by the way she looks at me. Sorry, hon, I'm supposed to be a married man. Oh, looket this gal, Kyle. She likes to use needles, I can tell by the way she handles this thing. It's a weapon, not a tool-OUCH! _

Kyle giggled with every description and nuance Parker sent his way. Scott talked kind-hearted Jill into asking Gatchel (or Gotta-Itch-My-Pants as Steve called him) to remove the blindfold. But he was denied the request.

_Tightwad._ Steve spat when Kyle passed the message on to him. _Can you get a load of this guy? No, you'd better not. It'll make me jealous._

Kyle only smiled, so pleased someone else was there to fill the emptiness in his soul. But then, as he grew tired, he thought of Midnight. _Are you two . . . has your link been severed, Steve?_

_No. I hope it doesn't either. It-it'll freak me out. I know it sounds kinda silly, but I can't imagine my life without Mid._ Steve fell quiet for a moment and Kyle could sense Parker debated with himself. _You know, Kyle, I about freaked when I found out we were . . . connected. But when you started crying, I found I just worked it all out as if it were natural. You know what I think?_

_What's that, Steve? _

_I think all Humanoids have latent abilities toward ESP and suchlike. I think we all have something, but not everyone has the natural know-how. Oh, some people try to say "you can be taught" but you can't. It's something that has to come natural, like . . . like music or art. It has to come from the soul. _

Kyle thought of Voodoo and how he missed his Partner, how he missed Voodoo's silly musings, too. He flexed his hands against the restraints and wished someone would cover his cold fingers. Kyle sighed wearily. He was worn out and frustrated because he could not see anything. _Something has to be done soon, Steve._ Kyle finally sent. _I'm very worried. Nothing like this was ever mentioned by Beth, or in anything we looked over. What do you think those ghosts want with us?_

_You think they're responsible for this, Kyle? _

_I'm damn sure of it . . . Steve. Damned sure. _

Steve paused a moment as a nurse fed him ate a spoonful of pudding. _They want us for . . . bodies? As lame as that might sound, does it make any sense to you?_

_Yes. Yes it does. The dream I had . . . Ptysar said the borders between him and me will become so that I can't tell . . . oh gods, Steve . . . Steve? Please, please tell me I'm still me! Tell me I'm still Kyle! Tell me I'm not some freak! I don't want to be- _

_Kyle, shhhh. Shhhhh. _

His tears moistened the padding in front of his eyes and Kyle raised his face to the ceiling again. _I won't be me anymore-_

_We're not going to let that happen._ Steve answered gently. He could feel Kyle's frustration rise again, a terrible sadness leaked down the link and Steve tried to mentally embrace his friend. _Kyle._

_I've . . . I've lost Voodoo, Steve. The link is severed. Gone. I feel like someone has ripped me up inside and did nothing to sew it back together. And I don't know where he is. Do you think he's already lost his mind? _

Steve thought it over carefully. _Not yet. The impact wasn't fatal for you or me. It could be there is a little bit of time. _

_Time for what? _

_To plan, Kyle. To figure out what to do. We should sleep on it- _

_SLEEP! _

_Sleep._ and Steve wrapped himself about Kyle's soul and Scott resisted at first. But he quickly calmed and relaxed and fell asleep soon after.

Cold metal touched Kyle's head and he flinched a little before realizing someone was cutting the binding from his eyes.

"It's just me, Kyle." Kayla whispered. "It's okay. Just hold still. Were you asleep?"

"Yes." Kyle replied groggily. "I-" he squirmed in the restraints and wished he could put Gatchel in them for a good forty-eight hours. "I guess I've been a good boy. Do I get pudding for dinner?"

Kayla blinked in surprise. "Was that a joke, Kyle?"

Scott's face lit up with a smile. "Yes." Actually, he surprised himself. Kayla removed the first two layers of bandage and sponged the area around his cheeks. "Kayla, how long have I been out?"

"About five hours, or so. At least that's what Voodoo says."

"Voodoo? When did he say that?"

"Just before I came in here."

"Is he here?"

"He said he was going to be right back."

Kyle moaned inwardly. He felt nothing from Voodoo. Nothing at all. Kayla clipped away the last of the gauze and sponged the area around his eyes. Kyle forced himself to be still while she carefully peeled the small circular pads. "How does it look?" He asked with some dread.

"There is some blood, but it's dried." She reported.

"I cried yesterday. I assume that means my tear ducts work just fine. Did they say I had broken blood vessels?"

She dabbed gently with warm water and a soft cloth, carefully removing dried blood from his eyelashes. "I wasn't here when V brought you in. They just told me what was going on."

He gripped her hand firmly but gently. "Kayla, I was attacked by Ptysar here at Medbay. Voodoo took me home and I was alright for a while then something shot through my head. Talk to Steve-"

"I did." She answered deadpan. "And he said very much the same thing. He was in the park, but then, how did you know that? And how did he know you were ICU at the time Midnight brought him in?"

"Midnight brought him in?" Kyle loved the warm water Kayla used over his eyes. It felt good. And it felt good to be attended by her. Perhaps at any other time, Kyle would have laughed at himself about his feelings. But he really didn't think his feelings for here were a laughing matter.

Not after she kissed him.

Kayla patted his face dry and Kyle slowly lifted his eyes. It took a little effort because there was still some blood sealing the inner rims. But her smiling face greeted him and warmed his heart. Kyle returned the smile. "Hello, Kayla." He said softly.

He had to stay for observation purposes, but Kyle was well enough to begin thinking of other things. He had planning to do and worked while Steve slept. He tried to keep his demeanor light as Steve told him distance was beginning to form between he and Midnight. Kyle knew time was shorter than he cared to think. He mentally recalled all the things discussed in the meeting, all the information they gleaned from the journal, some things Jill brought back with her and the scroll Kayla found. Somewhere there had to be a weapon they could use.

_Can't kill a ghost._ Steve grunted.

_Playing peeping tom?_ Kyle grinned.

_You're a loud thinker._ Parker returned.

_Funny. Voodoo never complains. _

_I'm not Voodoo, I'm cuter than that. _

_That's it! _Kyle announced._ I'm learning shields! _

_The whole thing is temporary, Kyle. I'm sure once we bag these ghosts, you and I will no longer be making these long-distance phone calls. _

_What did you say? _

Steve stuttered mentally, suddenly caught off guard. _ The whole thing is- _

_No, about 'bagging'. You said 'I'm sure once we bag these ghosts-Steve, that's exactly what we have to do! _

Parker was dumbfounded.

Kyle grunted, amused. _You know, I recall somewhere in the journal Beth mentioned a broken jar. Do you recall that? _

_My name is Steve Parker. I remember that. _

_Alright, Smarty. How about this: "Mordi 17. We've broken through. There's furniture and an alter, bowls, vases and jewelry. We found the alter is a false alter with a secret door just behind it. We open that in two days after taking inventory. We found three dead cats in the alter and a beautiful dark blue glass jar. How it was made is unclear. There are symbols all around the jar painted in red. I really want to take it home." _

_You know, I hate it when you do that._ Steve teased. _ I wish you could teach me. _

_Me too. _Kyle answered wistfully. _But what I'm getting at is the jar. None of the things Beth mentioned in her journal were there. _

_Well, if you recall, Kayla found the scroll in Rychal's tent. What does that say? _

_These people were archeologists, Steve. _

Kyle could feel Parker frown. _That doesn't mean some of them weren't thieves, Kyle. _

_True. But, Steve, Beth made no mention of the tanks, the cabinets, the files, the control panel on the door . .. What gives? _

_It could be at the time of discovery, much of that equipment was covered, wouldn't you think? The place was sealed-with dirt. _

_Yeah . . . what of the other things, the dog statues, the jewelry she mentioned- _

_Kyle, what if, what if the so-called jewelry wasn't jewelry? What if she assumed it was jewelry? What if it was more like remote controls you wear around your wrists? _

_Ahh. It's funny how reading her descriptions gave the impression she was looking into some ancient tomb, rather than the star ship of some advanced civilization. _

_Maybe she didn't have the words to describe what they saw._ Steve thought about what Mid told him of the half-buried ship, the mounds of graves on top, all the things neither he, nor his companions ever saw. It was freaky to think that Mid had the ability to see past the alien shields and holographic projections.

And Steve wondered about the 'liquid figure' that led he and Kyle to safety. Was that a result of the Interface? Another ability, perhaps? And there was something else that bothered him: Kyle was still able to recite what he himself read word-for-word while only half conscious. Kyle surprised him from time to time. Though he'd never say it, Steve suspected Kyle had the latent ability to transfer information from his subconscious to his conscious mind at will. It would certainly explain how he knew Steve was nearly attacked by the dog-beast while visiting Kyle just after the very first encounter. Parker considered asking his friend, but didn't think this was the right time.

He stared out the windows from his own personal room in Medbay (and still couldn't get over the fact that Kyle bought the place for him). _What about the jar, Kyle?_

_I think the dog-beasts were contained there. I think that's where they were-but I have no way of proving that. There's no way we can find the jar. All we have are assumptions. _

_Well, we have one fact: they don't like glass. They can't cross into it. So how would you lure two blood-thirsty ghosts into a glass prison? _

Kyle fell very quiet, now, considering. _They can't pass through it . . . what if they could, but at the cost of losing something, some part of their essence?_

_How can a ghost-or anything for that matter-loose its essence? Are you saying the dog-beasts won't attempt to cross glass because it really will hurt them? _

_"Might have something do to with the steadfast properties of silicon. Or light refraction. Maybe sound." that's what Doctor Glibson suggested . . ._ Kyle did not know how he managed to recall that, but he did. He frowned and stared at his hands, still bound to the bed.

_What's that?_ Steve asked.

_The steadfast properties of silicon. Or light refraction. _

_Maybe sound._ Kyle repeated. But both of them fell quiet the next minute. Kyle kept going over Glibson's observation. Somehow, it didn't seem right; the silicon idea, anyway. Light may not also have anything to do with it-they were ghosts and if they could seep through walls, murder people en mass, move objects or devour memories, what would or could imprison them?

Steve's thoughts kept going back to the restaurant he and Kyle visited on their first trip to Chenobis. Kyle defied it with a simple drinking glass. So it wasn't the amount of glass, or the thickness of glass-and he remembered the first time he saw the dog-beast in the hydroponics at Medbay. Sound? Sound? Or was it the impact of sound?

_Kyle? _

_Yes? _

_What about the impact of sound? What if it's the sound of glass, the impact it makes? It doesn't matter how thick or thin glass is, the ghosts react to it the same way. _

. . . liquid without feeling wet. Kyle flinched when he recalled the attack in his office not more than a few days ago.

Visions of a drop of water hitting glass came to mind.

The drop of water had a face to it. The face didn't fall, however, it slammed into something and could not go through it. It slammed time after time, forcing itself, but unable to penetrate the glass.

_Unless there was a way to hit them so hard, so suddenly, they were forced into the jar._ he thought carefully.

Steve turned very perplexed. _What?_

_Well, if these things can pass through all the things we've seen them pass, why would glass be the exception? Why does it have to be? What if, what if they can go through glass, but only at an extreme velocity? _

As crazy as it sounded, Steve knew what Kyle was saying. He remembered something about a girl and a crossbow and a glass jar and the speed. The impact. The horrible resultant pain. And the anger, oh, the anger! Parker shook his head. Where did that memory come from? And was that the answer?

_Kyle, what if the jar was indeed a holding cell of sorts, and what if the ghosts were caught at such a high speed- _

_A shooting bullet, perhaps? _

_Okay, a shooting bullet-that they could not resist passing through the glass. And what if after ending up in the jar, it was capped and they could not pass through because there was no way they could regain that velocity? _

It made sense. Kyle remembered being able to run from Ptysar by bus. The ghosts weren't fast, just clever. He settled back. _Faster than a speeding bullet._

-----------------------------------

Two days later, the two were released from the hospital. Steve was immediately called away to a meeting. He and Kyle still did not know how to tell anyone about their new link. Kyle anticipated some difficulties until they could get it all

straightened out. The best part was, however, they could communicate when they chose. But the downside started to reveal itself as Kyle began to exhibit signs of an empathic link.

With a promise he'd try to be good, Steve bade good-bye and boarded Midnight.

Kyle watched them take off and disappear beyond the multitude of skyscrapers. Voodoo was patiently waiting for him.

"What will you do now, Kyle?" The Sentinel asked quietly.

Kyle let him fly, having no desire to weave in and around traffic, or bother with remembering if he could fly. He recalled the conversation between he and Steve and the tentative plan he worked out the day before. "I need to go shopping, Voodoo." He finally answered.

"I have a weapon to make."

-----------------------------------

Cathy-Lee sat at her couch, drinking lemonade with three eyeballs swimming around in it. One of them winked at her as she reached to take a sip. The news came on the TV and she lowered the newspaper in her hand. The reporter expressionlessly spoke of food shortage around the world and how the business communities around the world were closing one or several at a time.

A coldness covered Cathy's skin and she glanced around to see who it was. No one was in the room, however and she looked back at the TV and saw it was looking at her.

"What are you staring at?" She asked it. "Mind your own business." and she went back to reading the paper.

It kept staring at her.

She snapped the paper down and glared at the TV. "I SAID, mind your own business!"

The very next minute, she found herself ramming her coffee table into the screen and out poured billions of tiny dark spider. She screamed and stepped all over them to run away and then they mutated and turned into disgusting long white worms and they started to wrap themselves around her ankles.

And the coldness came back and wrapped itself about her and Cathy fell through her floor and down, down, down.

She sprung up from her couch with a start, finding the TV and her kitchen lights on, a cup of coffee on her table and an email flashing on her computer.

Cathy-Lee stumbled off the couch and accepted the email.

"Hi, Cathy," it read and instantly she knew it was from Jeff. "Coming home soon. Miss you. Love J."

Russell sank to the floor and breathed a great sigh. An alarm struck the air and she startled with a cry of surprise.

It was time to go to work.

-----------------------------------

Kyle traversed the mall the following day. Like other Tentchi, he had not slept well, if at all in the last two days. The silent link between he and Voodoo threatened to drive Doctor Scott out of his mind. Steve's presence helped to alleviate some of the torment, but not all of it; his connection to Steve was not the same as Voodoo.

The background noise from Voodoo had been there so long, Kyle could not be anywhere without noise of some kind. He grew accustomed to carrying a crystal music player everywhere. It helped to some degree.

The mall walkers passed him by, their faces bent on whatever their errands required. A great many young people came and left, their laughter hanging in the air like little chimes. Kyle smiled as a couple of giggling girls caught him returning their stare. The cuter of the two, a curly blonde with a hat, turned away in terrible embarrassment.

Her friend laughed hard. "Josi thinks you're cute!" She shouted at Kyle.

Doctor Scott graciously smiled. "Likewise, Ma'am." He returned with a touch of his hat. Josi peered over her shoulder, her eyes shining as Kyle walked on.

Kyle passed by a bookstore and a few eateries. He even passed by an indoor garden shop and stepped into a jewelry store. Peeling off his hat like a gentleman should, Kyle approached a clerk.

The chubby lady greeted him cordially, then recognition touched her eyes. "Doctor Scott!" She greeted warmly. "Hello!"

Kyle had no idea who she was, but he used the customary procedures: greet the person as if you know them and hope they reveal their name to you sooner than later. "Hello-" and he found her name tag-"Patty."

"What can I do for you today, Doctor?"

"Uh, a very odd request. I hope you can fulfill it."

She held her hands aloft, palms to the ceiling. "That's what we're here for." And she laughed.

Kyle smiled and waited for her to listen. "I need to find someone who can blow glass bullets."

She blinked. "Glass bullets?"

"Yes. The price is inconsequential and I will pay three-fourths up front. They have to be exactly the size of my specifications." He produced a small tablet from his pocket and flipped the cover and handed her the designs.

Patty mused over it then gave him a quizzical expression. "One point seventy five millimeters circular and three millimeters tall, Doctor Scott?"

"Yes." Kyle replied quietly. "Is that too small?"

"No." She gazed at the plans again. "And you want an air bubble in the center?"

"As dead center as you can possibly make it."

"Souvenirs, Doctor?"

"A medical procedure." He read the frightened look on her face and added a smile to his answer.

Then she lightly laughed. "For a moment, I thought you were serious!"

"How soon can this be done?"

"Mmm . . . week or so-"

"I need it in the next six days if possible."

"Six days?"

"Yes. It's . . . a gift."

"Just one bullet?"

Kyle opened his wallet and found his bank card. "No. Make it four. Just in case two doesn't do the job."

Patty nodded and charged him. "They're not doing much anyway. I'll have them start right on it." She offered him a wink and Kyle smiled in turn.

"Thank you." He replaced his hat and departed. He would have to make the gun himself.

-----------------------------------

It ripped her wide open and Shan laid there, drained of life while an unholy thing stretched its fetal form before her. Its wings glistened with birthing fluids and its eyeless face stared at her with mild consideration.

"Mother." It whispered and it reached for her and laid its sickly, sticky lips on hers, its wings fanned and folded.

Shan sat up in bed again and wept in frustration.

"LEAVE ME ALONE!" she shrieked to no one in the room. She rolled over and slammed the button on the visaphone.

"Hey." Nick answered, rubbing his sleep-groggy face.

"I had another one." Shan sobbed miserably. "I don't know what to do."

"Hon, go see if Kyle's awake. Maybe he can give you something for it." He waited a beat. "Shan?"

She sat on the bed, her slim figure hunched over in grief. "I gave birth again." She murmured.

Nick laid his hands on either side of the visiphone and sighed deeply. The remnants of his own dream still plagued him. "Hon, I know it's freaky. Go to Medbay, explain. I'm sure someone can help you."

-----------------------------------

Jill unrolled the scroll and set two glass paperweights on either side to keep it down. She hated the scroll more than anything else she'd seen. It made no faces at her this time, but it vibrated with evil and sent chills down her back.

_Jill? _

_Hi, Wolf. _

_Everything okay? _

_Mostly. Nothing's reached out and tried to choke me, if that's what you're asking. _

Jill came across the 'prince' word again. This time it accompanied 'ragchash' meaning 'cursed'. Her lips lined in uncertainty.

_Will you be okay?_ Wolf asked after a moment.

_Yeah._ McKennan passed off. _Steve said I can call him if there's a problem. _

She lined 'bogknau aud a'ran' with 'ragchash' but found the word 'ragchash' was changed to 'ruthu' which was another word for 'murder'. The girl grunted impatiently. What was all this about? Were the scientists murdered? Well, it was said the science community was killed . . . She sighed heavily.

She sprawled paper print-outs from one corner of the library to the other. She taped the most important pieces to the glass walls. On the conference table lay tablets and notepads, binders and six dictionaries. A tape recorder stood on end, recording every movement, every little noise she made.

"I don't know." She sighed wearily. "Zhagk . . . demon. But there's no plural like there is in the journal. I'm finding a discrepancy here, as if something were mistranslated. "I'm finding things like bogknau aud a'ran which means 'people of learning' and transliterated as scientists and the word 'prithanay' which means 'to die by violent means."

She moaned and thought about taking a break, "I think Steve should just come in here and read this out for me."

Jill re-examined the journal, the scroll and a particular picture she took of the dog drawing. Four words: Princes, demon king and curse. She sat down, her eyes shot from corner to corner as she tried to piece the mystery together.

And the scroll started to smoke. Jill jumped to her feet and poured water in a cup. She turned to douse the flame and found the scroll was no longer on the table.

Jill patted her hands over the table top, damned sure nothing could just disappear like that. Not like that. She kept patting the table, confounded. Then she stood very still and silently fumed while Skywolf nagged her about the problem. Her eyes ran back and forth over the table's surface, finding not one clue of fire or smoke.

And one tiny area of the table lay shadowed just under the paperweight. Jill realized she was not playing with a simple scroll, but an intelligence. She approached the table and pointed at it.

"Lachna, Yawk nanath!" She cussed in her own language. She still stared at it and then did the unthinkable: she pulled a table knife from the cupboard and stabbed the visible discoloring. Instantly the scroll reappeared and a face reformed from the letters. It looked like it was spitting at her. Jill lost her temper and stabbed it between the eyes. "SHUT UP!" she screamed.

Jill did not sleep for two days after that. Skywolf grieved over her inability to sleep. But her mind ran like a doctor racing against the clock. The library which she now inhabited was pasted floor to ceiling with photos printouts. She couldn't figure it out. There were layers of things the camera picked up and she did not know how or when to call Kyle and let him know that the ravine was haunted. Jill printed one photo, went back to it later in the recorder and printed it again but ended up with something slightly different.

She placed the scroll in a small containment field to keep its energies away from her. But it still affected her in ways she could not put into words. The thing caused her vision to shift and her mind spun in endless hallucinations. It was all Jill could do to keep her head on straight. She cussed at it continuously, but refused to give up.

Finally she turned back to the cubical and glared at the scroll. "All I ask is an answer. Who are Ptysar and Xesnex? That's all I ask. I know about the deaths, the obliteration of one continent on Chenobis. I know about the murders and the rape. But where do the ghosts fit in?"

No answer.

Jill sighed in frustration and poured her umpteenth cup of coffee. She sat at the table, her eyes stabbing the pin-ups as though willing them to speak to her. She cast her eyes at the cup of coffee, took a sip, ordered herself to remain awake.

Don't sleep.

Don't sleep.

Stay . . . a . . . wake . . .

The alien freaks murdered her lover right before her eyes. She cried for him and her House. They stripped Queen Gani Yi of her crown and clothes. The monsters slaughtered her daughters and nieces before her four eyes. Then they dragged her and her sons outside the castle walls. Their hideous dark hides glinted cold in the smoky sun. The monsters forced Gani Yi to her knees and drew blades from the pockets of their hides.

She forced a smile, staring at her youngest boy, the pride of the family. "Be strong." She told him. "Be strong for mama. Take care of your brother."

And they sliced into her arms.

She mouthed the words 'I love you' as the blades slashed pieces of her flesh, sending waves of searing pain into her dark skin. But Gani Yi would not give the freaks the pleasure of her screams.

And they sliced off her head.

Jill sat up with a start and started to cry. It was okay. She was okay. It was just a dream. She stood and wiped her face.

McKennan recalled the dream: Two little boys. A queen mother-and something clicked.

"They ARE Chenobians!" She cried. "Oh gods, ohmigod! They ARE Chenobians!" She ignored Skywolf's demands to let him in on what was exciting her. She activated the visiphone and called. Kyle

"Come on!" She urged. "Kyle, please be home!"

But he was not. The answering system came on and Jill about panicked. "Kyle!" she cried. "Kyle! If you're home, you've got to pick up the receiver! Kyle! Kyle I figured it out! The ghosts-the journal-Beth mistranslated! It's all backwards, Kyle! There was only one demon, one alien but two princes-and THEY are Chenobian, Kyle! You're not dealing with an alien force, but supernatural! It might explain the glass, the need to feed on living energy, and why they won't take on Transformer life force-it's the wrong frequency! Kyle, CALL ME!"

-----------------------------------

Kayla considered going back to work the next day but voted against it, deciding to stay home instead. She panned over her mail and worked a little on her embroidery.

Lost in thought, she almost didn't hear the door buzz for attention. She jumped and opened the door for Shan.

"I need to do some serious shopping." Shan said without preamble. She walked right in and crossed her arms, her dark blue eyes stared through the Kshi. "And I don't want to go alone."

Kayla was surprised Shan was asking her. She blinked. "Come on in. I'll change clothes."

Shan examined the pictures on the walls while Kayla swiftly departed for her room. "Where's Cathy?" She asked from her closet.

"On business." Shan groused. "She wanted to come, but couldn't make it until later and Roddy wants me at that awful Nagk meeting tonight."

Kayla came back wearing a pair of blue jeans and pulled over a shaker sweater. Her dark hair swung freely about her shoulders and Shan smiled.

"What? Does it look awkward?" The tall dark lady asked, freezing in position.

"No." Shan shook her head. "It looks really great."

Not so sure, Kayla pulled a jacket over the sweater and she smiled bashfully. Shan was thinking of a time Kyle stared at Kayla in that same sweater.

But all that was gone. Kyle was lucky if he remembered anybody's name let alone how he felt about them.

Kayla peeked about the crafts section, seeking ideas for a new project. She thought of creating a photo album, but didn't know what theme to base it on. She thought of putting one together for Kyle, but honestly, the Kshi had no idea where to start or if she had any photos worth using. She also thought of putting something together for Ashtar, but didn't know if Ash liked flower wreaths or swags. Cathy did. Well, over time, Cathy did.

"Hey, Kayla." Shan called, "Lookit this."

Kayla rounded three wrong isles before finding Shan in an isle full of woven baskets and ceramic vases. She plucked up a shallow basket and twirled it one way then another. "I guess for long-stemmed flowers, huh?" Her bright eyes caught the empath's silent stare and Kayla slightly flushed. "I supposed you could use one of those foam bases and stick in hundreds of tiny flowers into it and place a salt-and-pepper shaker set on either side for a table center piece. A ribbon at the top would be pretty too."

Shan shrugged. She herself was not into arts and crafts-she liked stuff like that, but could never figure out how to put it together. She replaced the item and glanced at other pieces hanging from hooks. "Didja find anything?"

"No." Kayla answered softly. "Not today."

Shan gave her a swift but guilty glance. "There's a really nice candy store down the way. Wanna go?"

Kayla nodded. She never shopped very often and felt a bit out of place. She followed Shan toward the exit when something caught her eye: a series of unpainted ceramic trolls. She bent closer to the merchandise, examining each crafted piece for potential flaws. "I guess I found something after all." She lifted one and turned it one way then another while Shan waited.

Outside the craft store, Shan caught Cathy swiftly making her way through the crowd. Shan lit up, excited and waved an arm. "Cathy!" She called. "Hey!" She pressed her way between two paying customers and out the shop into the mall's sectionway. "Cathy!" She called again.

A terrible force of stone slammed into Kayla's right side and she hit an endcap. Two hooks ran into her left arm, exiting out the other side. She moaned in pain and pushed herself away. But whatever hit her to begin with, kicked her in the ribs and she hit her head against other hooks. Blood poured down her head.

"Hey you!" A clerk shouted. "I'm calling security right-"

A stream of water and blood shot out from the stranger's arm and sliced the lady clerk's head off her shoulders. Customers and co-workers panicked, their attempts to leave the scene were met with isles blocked by merchandise and other fleeing bodies.

The stranger, cloaked in grey and dark robes lifted Kayla and a stream of water and blood rushed toward her face. But as Kayla was brought up, her hand grasped a sculptured glass dragon and she stabbed her attacker with it.

The creature dropped her, a sound, humanoid/inhumanoid resounded off the walls and mirrors cracked under its spell.

Shan and Cathy bounded in, aiming for the dog-beast on two fronts.

It split in half, two rivers of blood and water raced about the room, the sounds of deadmen moaned as it passed over shelves and countertop displays. One stream chased a female customer while Shan tried to lift Kayla out of the shop.

The poor customer uttered a sound that could not be described by words. Her body was pulled inside out before the monster devoured her before three witnesses.

It was Cathy that dealt a final blow. She picked up a slender glass vase, broke off the end.

The aim proved true and the alien creature shot straight to the ceiling.

"CATHY!" Shan screamed. "GET OUT OF THERE! CATHY! CATHY!"

Russell wasted no more time. She kicked her heeled shoes off and leapt over a register counter and out the store as the two alien parts shot back together and spread out like a cloud. It swiftly descended, killing the three people who failed to leave on time. Then it gathered itself and disappeared through the ceiling.

Kayla fainted in Shan's arms.

------------------------------------

Kyle felt well enough the following few days to return to Medlab. Voodoo didn't mind so much (since he had to get back to work) as the nurses in Reception promised to look after Kyle for him and inform him should something go wrong. Kyle merely made a beeline back to his office. This time he spent several hours musing over his books. Some of his private library turned out to be very ancient, extremely valuable. He had text on species of aliens he could not recall and notes on the inside of some covers, indicating which alien species were extinct.

Kyle shook his head, considering his life span. On one shelf, Kyle discovered a scrap book. He had to use both hands just to tug it off the shelf. He sat at his desk, carefully setting the book in the center.

Photographs, organic samples of trees, bugs, DNA samples, lists and lists and more lists of names and numbers and brief descriptions of people. His face twisted in puzzlement. He turned back to the beginning and found a crystal recording. He pulled that out and set it in the computer.

"Well, it's done." He heard himself sigh. "It seems so odd that I would collect such a thing. But at least here is a memorial of a dead civilization. We could not stop the slaughter. We could not find a cure. But here it all is; the only outside evidence of Nebulos." Kyle turned it off and stared at it. A dead civilization?

He leaned back in his chair, his finger rested across his lips in thought. What caused the death of an entire people? Did he have anything else like this?

A little boy's voice filtered through the silent halls. He talked to someone incoherently, but incessantly. Words came all jumbled and ended with affirmation. Someone else's voice answered, an older, calmer boy.

Footsteps echoed eerily and Kyle gazed up from his studies and spotted two ghostly boys as they passed his office. He took to his feet and watched them as they slowly moved on. Their forms were not solid, their movements echoed as though out of time sequence. The little boy kept talking, his voice now a bit clearer, spoke of great heroes and warriors. He spoke of their deeds and their deaths.

" . . . And I'm gonna be one too. Mamma said I could."

The older boy, not more than thirteen, shook his head. "You get the strangest of ideas."

"My ideas aren't strange." The child protested. "I'm a hero. All those monsters died like they were supposed to. But you keep wanting to drink their blood. How come?"

The older boys shrugged. "Just something to do, I guess."

The little boy pointed a thumb over his shoulder toward Kyle. "I get to keep him. I found him first."

Kyle sat up with a start, gasping. He found himself in his office, a pile of folders under his arms. At first he recognized nothing. His eyes took in the TV, the eight book cases, the computer, a small hanging garden and three file cabinets. But nothing registered until he found a coffee cup lying on the floor, its contents spilled . . . and it reminded him of something but Kyle could not grasp the memory. He staggered to his feet.

DOCTOR SCOTT TO EMERGENCY WARD, PLEASE. DOCTOR SCOTT TO EMERGENCY WARD. DOCTOR MEIER TO EMERGENCY, PLEASE, DOCTOR MEIER TO EMERGENCY.

Kyle swept up his coat. They were calling Meier, too? The blood loss must be very substantial to call him in. Kyle raced down the hall and stopped abruptly when the older boy in his dream appeared from nowhere and smiled viciously then disappeared. Kyle froze for a moment then immediately hauled out his communicator. "Caprice! Pull those people into the observation ward! Caprice!"

He broke into a sprint, taking the stairway rather than the elevator. He ran five stairs down, then jumped to the next level and repeated the process two more times. He whacked through the doors and swept up a mask as seven people were wheeled in. Kyle pointed to the left. "Observation." He ordered stoutly.

"Doctor McDere-" the paramedic stopped cold when he realized Kyle stared at him. "Yes, Doctor."

They pushed their patients into the auditorium and nurses rushed to pull carts of supplies and curtains as one patient after another was brought in.

"What's the meaning of this?" Someone demanded. She was short but mighty. Doctor Compton made a beeline right for Kyle. And gave him 'the eye'.

"These patients are victims." Kyle answered evenly. "If we don't try to protect them-"

"This is MY ward, Kyle, you are here because you enjoy helping. We like to have you here. But everything is done through ME. Got it?"

"If we don't get these patients behind glass, they will be attacked again-"

"MY. WARD." Compton snarled again. She turned as patient number five came in and pointed toward the regular emergency facility.

Kyle about lost it. He cringed and turned away when Patient Number Five started screaming. Nurses and three doctors rushed to help but Kyle knew . . .their shouts did nothing to save the patient's life. Kyle heard him gurgle, drowning in his own blood.

And the next patient came in: Kayla.

Kyle silently pointed to the observation room and the medics complied without question.

They stabilized those six whom Kyle managed to send to Observation. Meier had to work on three transfusions and kept a constant vigil on each of them. Kyle operated six hours straight that afternoon, reattaching blood veins, sewing up burst organs and realigning broken bones.

He finally collapsed into a chair, keeping an eye on Kayla as she slept. Kyle nearly fell asleep himself when footfalls entered his ears.

"Doctor Scott." Compton's tight voice brought him off the edge of a dream and he blinked himself awake. "I owe you a sincere apology. How did you know?"

"Premonition." Kyle answered quietly.

She frowned and turned away.

------------------------------------

They all poured back into the council chamber. After another half an hour of insults, temper tantrums and accusations, Optimus called for yet another break.

Well, at least it was a break Prime was calling, and not everyone just getting up and walking out because of bad manners, Parker mused.

Two days! Two days of the same head-numbing nonsense! Well, no. This was not a part of the Nagk conferences.

Reports from Level six, West Central rolled off the mayor's tongue like toothpicks. She had a hard time speaking Common Cybertronian and it made everyone weary. Mid kept working on the finer details for the next Nagk meeting since Rodimus was called away to an emergency in Below. Steve didn't catch the details except there had been a serious fight.

The mayor finally moved from the rations report to the power reserves, accounting for every jot and ounce used. The reason for her being there were complaints of theft by those in charge. To settle the matter, a meeting was set up so the mayor could account for everything.

Frankly, Steve couldn't care less. He was asked to be there because he represented the Human side of the situation. His mind lingered back to his own problems with his wife and his friends. Steve frowned and played with a pen between his fingers. He laid it down and tried to stifle a yawn. The mayor moved from the power supply report to the waste management and her terrible droning continued like the torture of a dipping faucet. Steve set the pen down and stared at it. It just lay there like a dead thing. He fingered it, moving it this way, that, but remained subtle so as not to annoy anyone else. Then he tucked his hands under the table and just continued to stare at the pen. For some reason, he commanded it to move right.

It moved right.

Parker swallowed air and slammed his hand on it. Then he glanced about to see if anyone else noticed his sudden movement. His heart jumped and he lifted his hand and stared at it again. He silently ordered it to move left.

It moved left and he grabbed it off the table, his eyes wide with silent shock.

_ . . . steve?_ Mid's voice managed to filter in. _ . . . what's wrong? . . . fidgeting._

_Nothing._ Steve swallowed hard. _Just imagining things, that's all. Just goofing off._

Optimus Prime broke in here, "I think we'll take a break at this point." His voice overpowered the mayor's and she gazed up at him, blinking a set of huge saucer-shaped eyes.

"Ze vaste minigmint r'prt eesn't feeneeshed. Zer izz seex mur peeges-"

"We are taking a break." Prime repeated and he himself rose first and exited the room. The others filed out one at a time until Steve remained. Mid stared at his Partner for a long moment until Steve produced the pen. He held it horizontally in the air and waited three seconds before releasing it. He held it aloft with just a thought.

"Steve!" Mid gasped. "How are you doing that?"

"I don't know." Steve shook his head, his voice remained soft. He concentrated, ordering the pen to spin sideways then switch direction and spin up and down and it did both. It seemed so normal a thing.

But Midnight was freaked and he grasped the object as though it were bewitched. Steve remained calm. He crossed his arms and turned to his Dokiah. "I think I'm going to visit Kyle."

"Saw him yesterday." Mid pointed.

"No. I saw Nick yesterday. He said he's been having some really bad dreams in the last couple of days. I told him he was just working too hard." Parker shrugged. "I don't know."

The doors opened and Steve and Midnight turned, expecting the other Council Members to enter. Instead it was an Autobot communications clerk holding a digipad in her hands. "Captain Parker?" She addressed.

"Yeah." Steve blinked, grateful the meeting wasn't going to recommence so soon.

"Message from Doctor Scott. He says Kayla is in the emergency."

Steve cussed softly.

"I'll take you there, Steve." Midnight offered.

"No. You're needed here. I'll be okay." He swept his coat off the chair and met Midnight's concerned expression. "I'll let you know how it is, you know I will."

Midnight silently nodded but inside he ached. Steve's presence was fading further and further from him and while Midnight suppressed the urge to keep his partner close to him, he understood Steve had responsibilities, too. It was hard to let go, especially now that the Sentinel leader sensed it might be the last time he'd see his Tentchi.

------------------------------------

The baleful thunder rose, crying a harbinger of death. Smoke enshrouded sunlight and plunged the world into shadow. The terrible sound of buzzing engines hummed overhead and their music preceded several great black ships propagating a plaque of the devil's own savages.

As a bloodied sun dipped beyond the smoky horizon, eight ran'kas tramped the ground with sure-footedness. They bore eight of Chenobis' greatest generals. Nanag against alien invader-flesh pitted against cold unfeeling exoskeleton.

D'Than scanned the carnage, knowing his men were doomed. But, he thought, better dead than enslaved by these abominations. Better dead than live to watch the fall of civilization.

By the end of the day, the space demons slaughtered every last Nanag soldier in their path. Not one was spared even to sign a truce.

For D'Than, no regrets. Not for the lives of his people, his country, his wife and son.

D'Than's face was crushed and he lived long enough to hear the victory yelps of demon spawn. He heard them laugh and clash weapons. Blood raced over the fields.

And the women screamed.

Kyle startled out of sleep when the screams faded into the cries of an alarm.

"No. Shh." Steve's face came into view and Kyle shuddered and turned away.

Steve peeled off his coat. "You'd think they were trying to use patients as cryogenics subjects, not save them." His complaint of the cold air went unheard as he laid his coat over Kyle's shoulders. Then he knelt beside his friend. "I got the message, Kyle." he said softly. "I got here as fast as I could. How is she?"

"Out of danger." Kyle murmured. "But we're keeping her here just in case she goes back into shock." He slipped his hands from under Steve's black leather coat and rubbed his face.

Steve approached the bedside and stared into Kayla's face. She was pale, laying on the bed like an angel unconscious with cold. He ran his finger affectionately round the inside of her curved horned. Normally it would earn him a sharp but amused glance from the lady empath. Steve knew Kayla would never admit she was ticklish there. But the lack of response from her made him gravely withdraw and Steve glanced at Kayla's chart dangling over Kyle's head. He swiftly counted the checks marked by Kyle himself and blinked. Steve stared at Kyle then narrowed his eyes, "When was the last time you had something to eat?"

Kyle shrugged.

"Let's go get some coffee."

"I'm not hungry, Steve." Kyle argued.

"Yes you are. Come on, get up." Steve laid a hand behind Scott's back and pulled him up. Kyle did not fight but his eyes remained on Kayla. Steve lowered toward Kyle's ear to whisper, "She'll be okay." he assured his friend.

Compton walked in at that moment bearing a clipboard.

"Won't she, Doc?" Steve said loudly to Compton.

The short woman stared at Parker as though he were infectious. "What's that, Captain?" She spired in her most authorative voice.

"I'm trying to buy Kyle something to eat, but he seems to think Kayla is going to jump out of bed and run away."

Kyle looked sheepish.

Compton stared at Steve's intense blue eyes and nodded firmly. "Of course." She answered. "Someone will come in to check on her in a moment."

Pleased that she understood what he meant, Steve rested his hand across Kyle's shoulders and led him out.

Kyle remained abysmally somber. They traversed the hallway in silence and entered the elevator. "Downstairs." He ordered. The doors rumbled shut and the elevator slipped down one floor then two. He crossed his arms. "What happened, Kyle? How did that happen?"

It was the one thing that called Scott out of his mood. The professional side took over, but he still did not make eye contact. "Kayla and Shan were in the mall when Kayla was attacked. Or so Shan said. She saw Cathy and called to her when the ghost-dog appeared from nowhere and attacked Kayla." He paused a moment, his brows winkled. Kyle narrowed his eyes, considering something he hadn't thought of before. "Why does it keep trying to attack Kayla?" He really wasn't asking Steve.

Parker stared at him a moment. Kyle's eyes glued to one corner of the elevator. Steve's coat draped over the doctor's shoulder line like an inanimate hug and Kyle held on to it like a security blanket. His mouth was tight with worry. "Kyle," Steve softly called, "I want you to realize that what happened wasn't your fault. Not be any means. You did nothing to cause it."

Kyle shot him a swift glance, a deep breath came with the intent of an argument. "Steve-"

Parker held up a finger to silence the doctor. "Auh-Not one more word out of you." he ordered softly but sternly. "There is no law in the universe that says 'the ghosts are Kyle's fault.' None. What happened to Kayla was incidental."

Kyle lips tightened, knowing it would do him no good to argue. He knew Steve was right, anyway. Scott lightened up a little and finally greeted his friend with eye contact. "I had a very strange dream prior to the emergency." He reported as the elevator landed.

"You too?" Parker noticed Kyle's demeanor picked up slightly. A good sign. "Nick's been complaining about them for two days."

"I'm not sure . . . but I think I'm seeing myself as a little boy."

"You were never that young, Kyle." Steve joked. That earned him a smile from Scott.

They entered the cafeteria located at the forefront of the Downstairs level. Just a few doors down began the series of hospital libraries and Kyle silently reminded himself Jill was in one of them pouring over the journal, her photos and the scroll.

Steve had Kyle sit and he made a quick order of the largest breakfast the cafeteria offered. He rejoined his friend whose head laid over crossed arms on the table. Steve studied Kyle, thinking carefully.

"You said you had a dream." He spoke gently and waited for Kyle to pull himself together.

Kyle sat up with a soft moan. "Two boys were talking as they walked down the hallway. I couldn't make out everything they were saying but, Steve, I somehow felt I knew who they were. And just before I reached the ER, I saw the older of the two smile right at me."

A waitress came by and set their plates before them. Steve smiled his thank you and looked back at Kyle. "Have you heard from Jill?"

Kyle shook his head. "No. Not for the last couple of days. I've tried catching up on casework, she's been living down here, piecing the information together."

Steve grinned and remembered another friend of theirs that did the very same thing. "Remember how Draynor would do that?"

Kyle chuckled, recalling the face of an old man and how he would eat, sleep and drink research. "I recall how he would lock the door on us now and again and-" Kyle's whole face brightened with the memory of a fortress made of solid stone and a great and heavy wooden door that lead to the family library. "-and you would slip packages of food to him with little notes that said things like 'we usually feed our prisoners. Here's your rations!" And he laughed.

Steve echoed the laughter. "I remember Dad once sliced a lock off the door to shove one of the prettier maids in, locked the door behind her and shouted 'I'd better hear noise!"

Kyle laughed harder-"And Raylan was still a virgin when she finally came out!"

And the two laughed again. "I think," Steve shouted above their laughter, "I think the old man must have forgotten what a woman was for!"

That stopped them both cold and Kyle dropped his fork. Steve froze, his eyes blank with shock. Never would Steve say such things.

Kyle's mind raced frantically, searching through all Voodoo's memories, digging through the hours he listened to his journals but not once was there any mention of a Raylan or a Draymor. There were no fortresses made of stone, no wooden doors-not on Alean or Cybertron.

He pushed his plate away, his eyes shifting from one abstract place to another, searching for a reason or a place or something to explain-"

"Gods, Kyle." Steve swore, "What's happening to us?

-----------------------------------

The crystal lit up the topside of the ship and set it ready for departure. It released the air hatch so the shipment can be traded and equipment loaded and ready for disbursement. All was well for the moment. The people were perfect for the task; the first stage of redevelopment was about to commence and the greatest part of it; if they succeeded here, they could conquer other planets, other worlds. And soon, their kind would number in the trillions and what a perfect army! What a wonderful galaxy it would be! Theirs would be a dominate life form and the Humanoid population would be bred to serve them. Everything was going according to plan. The troops started to bring the females in, the scientists began the first stages of impregnation. Gk'zamth was most pleased. He recorded it carefully, word for word because they would soon have a whole new generation of Shagch'nauch to teach and train.

He turned to the female he chose to bed that night. The look of horror on her face was almost precious. Gk'zamth purred with glee. The Chenobians had soft bodies and small faces. Their four eyes riveted his imagination and he approached her and pulled her head back by her hair and necked her. She wriggled under him, exciting him further and he played with her, pleased that he was strong enough to do whatever he wished.

And she screamed.

And she screamed and shocked him and he growled and back-slapped her. She fell off the bed and he reached for her. She screamed in Chenobian gibberish and he growled and spoke in his own language. He chased her down and pinned her by her shoulders. The female was going to do exactly as he wanted! But she squirmed and managed to kick him away and she raced for the lavatory and sprayed him with blood

and sprayed him with

and sprayed him with

and . . . and . . .

And she cried and he batted his eyes and Gk'zamth fell away and all that stood there was Nick Cavanaugh. He sank to his knees, bewildered and fearful. His wife huddled against the wall in the bathroom and wept.

-----------------------------------

No sooner had Kyle calmed Cathy down for the third time in two weeks, than Shan called him. She wept uncontrollably, freaked. Kyle listened to her calmly and asked if there was something he could do for her. Poor Shan, however, refused any sleep medication. Kyle was not surprised, really. After reviewing her records, he found ancient notes made to himself how Shan refused medication whenever possible. She wouldn't even take aspirin for occasional migraines. He suggested some weak herbal tea, which he knew she would try and a light-hearted movie. But there really wasn't much else he could do for her.

Then he was called back to Kayla.

Kayla was taken off duty for the next several weeks, given light sleep aids and told to watch some 'good' TV or do lots of reading and meditation. Kyle discussed Jill's discoveries with her the very moment he could get free of Medbay. With the final pieces in place, all Kyle needed was a reason for the dog-beasts' interest in he and Steve. Jill remained quiet on the visiphone while Kyle scribbled out the final sketches for his new weapon. He frowned, struggling to concentrate on two things at once.

"Do you think that by possessing you and Steve, the princes are more powerful, Kyle?"

Kyle sighed deeply and tapped the pencil against his pad. "You know, they have the power to kill en mass and at random. They have the ability to travel and pass through matter. What's left?"

Jill shook her head, her white hair sliding off her shoulders as she did so. "Maybe just to feel like a person again. They gave up being a person when they became what they are now. Wouldn't you miss being able to touch people?"

Kyle thought it over carefully, trying to logically guess their behavior. He added a little targeting notch to his drawing. "You know, Jill," he started softly. "Ptysar has cut me off from Voodoo entirely. And yet, I feel nothing from Ptysar except on rare occasions."

"Do you think he's trying to replace Voodoo?"

Kyle frowned and something surfaced to his mind. He lifted his eyes to the monitor, "You know, Jill, I recall finding a notebook in my office at Medbay concerning an extinct cannibalistic race. They believed that to devour a person, was to take in that person's soul and magic and power. And that could be the philosophy used here-Ptysar and Xesnex are . . . " and suddenly Kyle could not bring himself to say 'devouring'. He didn't want to think about the possibility that he and Steve were slowly being consumed by the dog-beasts. But the awful truth stood naked before him. Doctor Scott swallowed hard, his eyes darted down the hall toward his outdoor patio. " . . . Ptysar and Xesnex are trying to acquire our abilities."

Jill flinched in surprise. "Kyle, are you saying that by possessing you and Steve, Xesnex and Ptysar think they will become Interfaces?"

Doctor Scott winced and looked back to his friend over the visiphone, "Well, I think Ptysar, who's the smarter of the two, sees Interfacing as the next step in the evolutionary scale. He's looking to add to his existence, Jill. He's looking for another form of power."

Jill's eyes peeled fearfully away.

The conversation ended when she was called away to Medbay. Kyle sat there quietly for several long moments, listening to his stereo, working out the finer details to his weapon. Once again, he was grateful to Voodoo. Memories of dimensional physics came in handy for this weapon. Kyle figured it would take a tremendous amount of air pressure to fire glass bullets: compressed air would ensure the glass would not crack or break when fired.

He sighed and examined his artwork. So much to do . . . Steve had been very quiet of late. Both of them tried to stay out of one another's lives as much as their new gift allowed. Steve sometimes nattered on about the meetings, the incessant politicians and their little games. Kyle calmly listened, expressing some concern while he reviewed his records and journals. They were not more than five days from their ordeal and already both men felt time press against them. Duties . . . duties.

-----------------------------------

Ashtar had left Steve alone for the night. He tossed about his bed, half wishing his estranged lover had not left after all. At least with Ashtar there, Steve did not have to face the fear of a nightmare.

But the sleeplessness would not let up. Parker finally sighed and abandoned his bed for his customary chair. He swung his legs over the arm and draped a blanket over his tense form. Steve plucked up the remote and remembered not too many days ago, he was doing this too, facing some dream about being poisoned.

The news came on, but knowing pretty much what was going on already, Steve flipped channels, having no idea what he wanted to watch.

_Can't love you anymore. You're just too weak for me to care for. _

_You can return me to the pet shop, Midnight. Some wayfarer will find me. _

_No. You're mine. I can do what I please. _

And Midnight proceeded to inject Steve with air bubbles.

Steve startled hard, nearly falling right out of his seat, finding his heart really hurt-but that was brief and the flickering light from the TV reminded Captain Parker he was safe, he was still loved.

. . . wasn't he? The link between he and Midnight was diminishing further and further. I'll end up just like Kyle, Parker thought dismally. How can he bear under it? The silence! The isolation!

And Steve remembered what it was like to be isolated, to feel separated from everyone around him. Worse yet, the depression forbade him to get out of his chair and call for help.

He fought it. Steve peeled the blanket off his body and struggled to move. He fell to the floor and found he could not even stand. He curled up as darkness and emptiness assailed him.

And Steve wept.

------------------------------------

Mid patiently listened to Ambassador Plak'nu's endless whining. Mid and Roddi were on their way to a little off-time when Plak'nu caught up with them. Everything from her burnt shakla to details covered at the meeting poured from her mouth in long fragmented sentences. Mid wondered how he and Rodimus might be able to escape her. A terrible pain settled in the back of his head. He wondered if it wasn't the link again. Or maybe Steve was having problems.

That was the last thought before a black light struck him from behind. The impact was such that it knocked him off his feet. Rodimus caught him as Midnight fell to the ground and Steve disappeared from his consciousness.

Skywolf and First Aid sent for Optimus Prime. The message merely stated that it was urgent and that he absolutely had to be there. Prime entered, anticipating a terrible discovery, or a surprise of some kind.

That's not what he faced.

Midnight fiercely wrestled against the containment field holding him to the flatbed. He growled and yelled and called Steve's name twice before screaming in frustration.

Optimus turned to Roddy for an explanation.

But First Aid spoke in his stead. "He's been like this for twenty minutes." The medic reported.

"We were doing fine." Rodimus added. But then he had this funny look on his face and blacked out."

Optimus crossed his arms. "What is going on?" He asked sternly.

Skywolf shook his head. "Steve." Both Primes gave him pointed stares. "You see, the Tentchi have all been suffering terrible nightmares and bizarre circumstances since Kyle and Steve returned from Chenobis."

Prime's optics darkened. He recalled reading some of the reports handed him. But the crisis regarding the Nagk had taken all his time and energy. He wanted the piracy problem to be over and done with already, but the Nagk insisted on more hearings, more evidence, more and more attention. "What can we do?" He finally asked.

Skywolf and First Aid shook their heads. "Nothing." Skywolf answered like a death knell. "Essentially, there was nothing any of us could do to begin with. There is nothing any of us can do now. We don't know how to pinpoint the source."

"What's worse," First Aid broke in, "Kyle and Steve seem to know what's going on, but they have not volunteered any real information. Both of them have spent extensive time in Medbay-as injured. But Kyle has not come to either of us with this problem."

Skywolf nodded. "Jill tells me Kyle suffers from amnesia. She says their trip to Chenobis has proven nearly-fatal, which I can account for as she had spent nearly two weeks under Doctor Hashu's care-"

"And none of them have come to the Council regarding this?" Optimus was astounded.

Rodimus glanced at his feet once, then back to his friend. "Kyle is suffering from traumatic stress syndrome, as reported to me a week ago. Hashu suggests therapy, but hasn't come to me with a plan yet. Steve is showing similar symptoms, plus several irregular characteristics."

Optimus waited for more. "Like?"

"Telekinetics? Ashtar said she caught him doing odd things like making salt and pepper shakers float in the air."

"What is causing this?" Optimus was nearly breathless at this point.

"Possession." First Aid answered for the other two. "It's the only explanation."

Chaos entered just then bearing a digipad between her hands. "Skywolf, we're ready."

Rodimus turned from her back to the Sentinel medic. "Ready for what?"

"A test on Midnight's link. We're trying to contact Steve, but can't seem to get through to him. He's not answering our paging. Chaos, have Midnight taken to the chamber."

They never got that far. Midnight managed to transform under the containment field, tearing his skin and injuring himself in the process. The containment field broke under his maddened state and he readied to blast off right in the room. Optimus and Rodimus jumped on him, holding down the Sentinel leader by his wings. Midnight shrieked.

"THIEVES! He screamed. "You can't keep Steve from me! I'll find him and I'll come back and I'll kill you all! I'LL KILL YOU ALL!" He ignited thrusters as Skywolf bolted from the room and returned seconds later with a fancy laser rifle.

"Optimus, move slightly to your right!" He targeted the Sentinel and Prime, not knowing what the weapon was for, obeyed. Skywolf shot him and a blue light glowed about Midnight a moment before his form shrank and rearranged itself into the robot form. Midnight was transfixed in his alternate mode, incapable of changing back.

That didn't mean Mid was helpless, just unable to fly. He screamed again: "TRAITORS! YOU'RE ALL TRAITORS! I'LL KILL YOU ALL! ALL OF YOU! YOU'LL SCREAM HOLY MURDER! HOLY MURDER!"

Rodimus gasped in pain-induced shock. The finely smoothed surfaces of his body superheated and started to blister. "Skywolf, you'd better do something NOW!" Roddy demanded. He shut off pain receptors to his arms and the right side of his body as Midnight's aura started to flare. Optimus and Rodimus took one glance at the other and jumped away before their bodies fused to the Sentinel leader's. Prime grabbed First Aid and Rodimus grabbed Skywolf as the aura shot out and enveloped nearby equipment, sizzling and warping the components. But as fast as the aura shot out, it died and with a heart-broken whimper of Steve's name, Midnight curled up and passed into a coma.

------------------------------------

The project was only half way done. Kyle picked up his package from the jewelry store just the day before and all he had left was the note, two vials of antivirus made for two very special people, and the weapon itself.

The clock struck late, almost past his bed time. The stereo played a wonderful ancient piece of music: Prayer Cycle. Voices from various languages and dialects filtered through soft tones, wooing the listener to a somber, soulful mood. Beautiful and sad, and it fit Kyle's mood perfectly. Voodoo was called away to South Continent to assist in an emergency demolition. He promised to be back in a few hours, or as soon as possible. Kyle didn't mind. He didn't want Voodoo to see what he was doing because he knew it would be hard for his friend to understand. That was why the package was addressed to Kayla. He knew she would see to it the instructions were followed. It'd hurt. Kyle knew the Community would be deeply hurt by it, but it was the only option he had left. Time grew shorter. Just today the news reported five unexplained deaths in the mall. It seemed the dog-beasts had an affinity for the mall-a lot of people and potential destruction.

Xesnex loved violence.

Something weakly tapped at his door. Kyle glanced up from the kitchen table and wondered if it were some prank from a neighbor's kid. He waited but heard nothing more. Doctor Scott resumed his work, carefully tightening the barrel to the loader, adjusting the primary laser directive center so that the compressor did not break or crack the glass bullets on impact. According to his schematics, the weapon should prove powerful enough to crack through a human skull.

The tap came again and Kyle decided to simply see what it was. Maybe paranoia ate at him.

_ . . . Kyle . . . _

Scott jumped to his feet, careful as not to damage his work, and dashed. Steve fell forward the moment Kyle opened the door. He caught his friend and Kyle lowered to his knees, bringing Steve close to him.

"Steve!" He anxiously called.

_Mid . . . he's gone from me. Gone._ Parker's emotional state gave him no strength. But Kyle had already guess what had happened. He secured Steve's arm across his shoulders and managed to pick his friend up and carried Steve to his room.

Steve lay on the bed in deep shock. Kyle covered him and reached round the corner to his desk and punched in a call to Medbay.

_Kyle . . . Kyle, don't leave me. I'm all gone . . . it's all gone from me, Kyle . . . _

_I'm here. _Kyle promised._ I'm here. _

**Hello? **

Kyle turned to the televisor. "This is Doctor Scott. I need to speak to Doctor Hashu immediately."

**I'm sorry, Kyle. Brian has left for the day- **

"Endema, Captain Parker is here and in traumatic shock. I dare not move him. Get on the goddamned phone and call him!" Kyle cut the communication before she could object, speaking out her nose. Kyle returned to his room and laid his hand on Steve's chest, checking heart rate and blood pressure. Steve seemed unresponsive, laying there like a deadman.

_Steve?_ Kyle called softly. _It's me. I'm here._

_It's all I have._ Steve's inner voice was that of a child. _It's all gone from me. Lookit, Kyle, I'm bleeding to death. It's all over me . . . _Steve was so overcome with shock he could not even cry.

Kyle crawled on the bed and held Steve in his arms and waited for Hashu to arrive with emergency med staff.

-----------------------------------

A N D R E A . . . the voice whispered like the sound of a million fell voices, rising and falling with the highs and lows of death. Across a vast wasteland, long since obliterated by war and disease, she stumbled; a half dead thing that should be shot out of her misery. She wept when the voices used her first name. It wasn't her name anymore. Nobody calls her that fell name, not even Roddy.

A N D R E A . . . it was like being licked clean of privacy. She stumbled on, her feet bloodied by the acid laying on the ground, her skin burned with radiation and her belly swelled with the fruit of her desecration. The sun peeled her dark skin, chewing away at it with boils and festering radiation wounds. Her face, naught but a mask of horror.

A N D R E A . . . and a contraction hit. She cared nothing for the child about to be born. Shan knew what it was going to be; a spawn-a living abomination.

She contracted again and again and the pain threatened to rip her apart. She crouched low to the acid ground, screaming, bending over and screaming more, but her cries went unheard, drifting off with the putrid winds. And finally it arrived, sliding out of her onto the ground and Shan searched for something with which to cut herself free of the unwanted child. She grasped a piece of glass and when she rolled over to complete the birthing task, she found not a child, but a huge black beetle.

Shanygn shot up from her pillow and screamed, pounding the bed in an unbidden fit of rage and terror.

------------------------------------

. . . Steve plucked lint from his overalls as he sat against the outer wall of the topside vent shaft. Midnight sat next to him, saying nothing for a long time. The inevitable had happened. Midnight found himself someone better, someone who could handle more responsibility more efficiently.

"I just want you to understand that it's nothing personal." Midnight explained gently. "It's just that . . . you're so weak and small. So fragile and I'm honestly tired of being so fearful that something will happen to you day and night."

Parker gazed out toward what should have been a cityscape. But only a dense vaporous blue haze met his eyes. The world shrank down to him and his partner.

But Midnight didn't want him anymore.

He wasn't wanted anymore.

"I'll get better." Steve struggled to swallow his fear, his grief. "I promise. I'll do better."

"I'm sorry, Steve. I will simply have to put you to sleep."

"Don't put me to sleep!" He tearfully quailed. "Somebody still loves me! Somebody still loves me!"

Kyle tried to think what day it was. Thursday. Might be Friday. He paused in his work. The weapon was nearly done. He never thought in his whole life he would have to administer medicine in a gun. But here it was. Kyle made it so that it could easily and swiftly be assembled and disassembled and/or added to a Sentinel's weapon.

Kyle paused in his work for another moment and smiled to himself. It seems that although he had lost his memory, had lost six thousand years worth of experience, he still thought like a Tentchi. But then the smile faded. He did not know how much time he and Voodoo had left together. Scott glanced past his dining table to the couch where Steve soundly slept. There was nothing they could do for him, not really. They ran three tests, all proving Steve was in Link Shock, a dangerous state of mind that crippled the individual close to a vegetative state. Kyle did not know if Steve could regain enough of himself to pull out of it, nor not. Hashu insisted, however, Steve merely stay with Kyle where he could be monitored constantly and closely rather than spend time in a hospital scrutinized by nurses who were there just to work.

Kyle agreed to it and arranged a meal service to his quarters three times a day. If he had to have company, he was going to make sure Steve was able to eat without food poisoning. Not that Kyle couldn't really cook, he just preferred not to.

Scott checked the accuracy of the weapon's target system and lowered it to finish the trigger mechanism. In a chair beside him sat a white box with white tissue paper flowering out. The box, and its contents including the weapon, the bullets, two vials of counterpoison for Matt and Nick and a good-bye note were for Kayla.

"Who's going to fire the thing?"

The sudden voice nearly made Kyle jump out of his skin. He shuddered in surprise. "Steve!" He knew his eyes had to be huge. "You're . . . awake!"

Steve's face was a blank. He stirred under the blankets on the couch, so grateful Kyle kept him here rather than abandon him to his own empty quarters. He just realized he had been here for at least a couple of days; he could not really tell. He knew Kyle had taken good care of him, just as he always did. Kyle talked with him when he wasn't working on the weapon. Kyle had him watch TV, making comments on the really bad shows and even watched some sports programs-the ones Voodoo said Steve liked. And Kyle slept beside him at night just to make sure . . . just to make sure. If a man ever had a friend closer than brother, Steve knew Kyle was that man. He laid his head weakly against the couch and batted back tears. The nightmare haunted him.

Kyle got up to comfort his friend.

_What are you doing, Kyle?_ Steve actually meant why Kyle was building the weapon.

Kyle did not need to answer him; he knew Steve knew. He embraced Steve in silence and waited for his friend to calm down, maybe go back to sleep.

-----------------------------------

She was a little girl, playing hop-scotch with some friends. Her mother just fired the latest mentor-teacher and now it would be several days to several weeks before Nitha would get another private teacher. Of course, she'd make trouble for the next one, too and that one would get fired by her parents and Nitha would be without a teacher again. She laughed all the time. Her folks got her everything she ever wanted. She'd never have to grow up and go to work, because her folks did all that work stuff. But while Ausa took her turn at the squares, a huge shadow appeared overhead. Nitha and Ausa and Darci raised their little heads and beheld a black arrow, bigger than any building they ever saw. Bigger then the daun-sphere field her brother played on at his games. Big, big, big and Nitha watched as these things on wings poured from a white square in the ship. They dropped down and flew in different directions and then they started to shoot people with guns.

And that was when Nitha heard Ausa scream and scream and scream-her leg was cut off and she screamed and-

-and four in the morning seemed too early to get out of bed. But Kayla had been unable to sleep. She simply got up, showered and dressed, hoping the nightmare she woke from would not infect her the rest of the day.

_What can I do to help?_ Spellbinder asked gently.

_Knock me out and tell me when it's all over._ Kayla joked dryly.

_Give me another option. _

Kayla about pouted in misery. Then the terrible thought hit and she stopped fussing with her hair. She stared herself in the mirror. Dark circles touched her face, the light in her eyes dimmed from distress. _Just tell me we can find a way to save Kyle and Steve._

_We will find a way to save Kyle and Steve._ Spellbinder repeated confidently. _Have you opened the package yet? _

_What package? _

_Oh. I forgot. _

_Spellbinder? _

_You were resting, so I took it for you yesterday. It's on the table. _

Kayla rounded the corner from her bathroom to the coffee table. A white box, sealed with packaging tape sat square in the middle. She approached it apprehensively and stared at the little tag on top.

_It's from Kyle. _

_I know. _

_What's in it? _

_I don't know. _

Kayla undid the seal and fished through the tissue paper. She found a smaller box and opened it first. Four glass bullets with a single air bubble rested in a row. She made a face in puzzlement and fear. Then she dipped her hand in the box again and pulled out a letter. She held that with her other hand and found the hand-made weapon at the bottom.

Kayla covered her mouth and tried not to cry. She drew a deep breath and took strength in Spellbinder's loving presence.

**MY DEAR KAYLA,** Kyle wrote, **BY THE TIME YOU RECEIVE THIS LETTER, STEVE AND I WILL NO LONGER BE THE SAME PEOPLE YOU ONCE KNEW. ALL THAT MATTERS IS THAT MATT AND NICK WILL BE SAFE ONCE STEVE AND I ARE GONE.**

The words broke Kayla's heart and she started crying before she could read the rest of the letter. Even Spellbinder's kindness could not consol her. She covered her face and cried a while longer, her heart pouring out in agony. Too late, they were too late!

_Kayla? _

She tried to stop crying.

_Kayla, Kayla, you have to keep reading. It's important, Little One. _

Kayla swallowed hard and wiped her eyes and forced herself to concentrate:

**INSIDE YOU WILL FIND A SMALL BOX CONTAINING GLASS BULLETS. YOU HAVE TO SHOOT DIRECTLY INTO OUR FRONTAL LOBES-THAT'S WHERE THE THINGS RESIDE. THE BUBBLE INSIDE THE BULLET WILL BE THEIR ONLY MEANS OF ESCAPING THE GLASS AS IT ENTERS OUR BODIES ONCE THEY ARE INSIDE THE BUBBLE, THEY CAN'T GET OUT. THAT'S THE THEORY, ANYWAY. I HAD EXTRAS MADE IN CASE THE TARGET (THAT'S ME) ISN'T COOPERATIVE. **

Kayla smiled, hoping Kyle was just trying to be funny.

**I HOPE YOU DON'T FEEL I JUST GAVE UP. I HOPE YOU CAN FORGIVE ME, IF YOU DO. I'M SORRY FOR MANY THINGS, KAYLA. I'M SORRY WE DID NOT GO TO THE BREAKFAST YOU ASKED FOR. I'M SORRY YOU GOT INVOLVED IN THIS MESS. I'M SORRY I NEVER TOOK THE TIME TO TELL YOU HOW MUCH I LOVED YOU. **

Kayla cried a long time before she took the weapons and the upper half of the letter to Jill.

-----------------------------------

Shan fled through a dimly-lit passage. A soft blue glow emanated from a panel strip along the wall, guiding her ever forward. Spray-painted graffiti scarred the walls on either side. But the language was different from that of the letters and signs used on the panels. In her silk nightgown and bare feet, Shan raced over freezing cold floors.

Then tall ominous doors materialized, their sudden appearance resounded like the echoes of a slammed door. Shan dashed from door to door to door, desperately seeking a way out.

One tall, ancient wooden door opened into a torture chamber. Alien bodies dangled from the ceiling like so much rotting meat. She rammed the door closed but it opened again, moaning on its hinges. She shut it and it opened itself once more. She darted away running and whimpering in fear and frustration. But the room followed her, faster and faster, gaining as though to swallow her whole, to add her to its vile collection.

Shan finally fell to her knees weeping on the freezing floor.

"GET ME OUT OF HERE!" She screamed at the top of her voice. "No. I need to wake up. That's all. I need to wake up." And she tried to think of ways to wake up, to escape the hallway.

She slammed against another door and tried with all her might, willing the stubborn, metal door to open. Grudgingly, it did so. But to her dismay, Shan found herself in another corridor, lined on either side with doors and graffiti scribbled everywhere.

Shan stumbled against a wall and wept, unable to escape.

Nick woke the following morning and found his wife trapped in a coma.

------------------------------------

Steve slowly pulled on a thick black sweater. Two days passed and this morning, Kyle received a call from Nick regarding Shan. Hashu begged Kyle to come take a look and Steve demanded to go; it was Community business and he needed to be there, too.

Kyle had someone go to Steve's apartment and bring back a few sets of fresh clothes. Steve had showered and shaved and although a bit slow, he insisted on dressing himself, too.

Kyle stepped out to his patio and watered his small herb garden. Voodoo stirred from shut-down and stretched a little. He offered Kyle a weak smile, but did not get one in turn.

"I have to go to Medbay. Something regarding Shan in a coma." Kyle informed.

"You have to do what needs to be done." Voodoo answered softly. "Let me take you there."

"Steve will be coming with us."

Kyle reached out and ran his hand over Voodoo's warm metal skin. He choked up, wanting to say something, but lost his voice.

_It's okay._ Steve Touched. _V understands._

_Does he?_ Kyle challenged. "Voodoo, I-I'm not going to beat around the bush about this. I want you to be prepared for what might happen."

"Kyle, don't." Voodoo begged. "We'll make it-"

"We may not." Scott shot right back. "Often in life, bad things happen and it's nobody's fault, they just do."

Voodoo sent his gaze elsewhere. "I won't live without you, Kyle. You know that. I won't live without you. No matter what you say-"

"I'm just asking you to be strong. That's all. I'm not asking you to be rational, to move on as if nothing happened. I just want you to be ready for the worst." Kyle shed the tears Voodoo could not. He struggled to pull himself together.

Voodoo gently set his finger along Kyle's spine, but did not try to stimulate Kyle with gentle bursts of power. If the link was broken, Kyle would not survive the stimulation; he was no longer Tentchi.

And Voodoo grieved that he could no longer even do that. "I'm still here, though, Kyle." He said quietly. "I can't hear you in my head anymore. I can't tell what you are thinking, I can't hear the music in your mind. But I know that when I come back here late in the day, I know you're still here. I can still hear your voice. I'm-I'm happy with that.

But Kyle was not and he leaned against Voodoo, drained.

Steve stepped out wearing a black leather jacket over his thick black sweater and a pair of black jeans with black boots. Like Kyle, he still thought like a Tentchi. I'm ready, Kyle. 

Nick sat at his wife's side in a very quiet room at Medbay. Kyle checked her chart, signed it and stared into Shan's blank countenance.

"Will she wake up any time soon?" Nick asked, batting back tears.

Kyle was prepared for Nick. Shan was brought in at ten that morning after Rodimus informed Medbay there was a problem.

"I don't know, Nick." Kyle quietly replied. "This is an area for which I have no expertise. Nor do I know anyone who does."

Nick swallowed hard. "There's no such thing as magic, Kyle." He said sternly. "Someone or something has done this to her."

"The key word, Nick is **Something**."

Nick shook his head. "I don't-I can't believe anything would do this to her. Why? Why do this?" He pushed himself away from the bedside and strolled toward the window. He stared out the dark cityscape and tried to bring his grief under control. "I guess I'll have nightmares about this, too."

Kyle clutched a hypo in his coat pocket. He didn't want to do it. To him, it was an abuse of trust. But he saw no other avenue. Nick turned back and Kyle swiftly shot him in the neck.

Nick gasped and fell forward. The drug raced through his system faster than he could react. "Kyle!" He gasped.

"Forgive me, Nick." Kyle answered quietly. "You have been targeted. No more deaths. The monsters will die with me and Steve."

Nick passed into a simulated coma without another word.

A nurse came in to sign for her rounds and spotted Nick, then looked at Kyle. He merely shrugged. "Better get someone in here." He ordered softly.

She ran out and Kyle sighed heavily, mentally preparing to do the same for Matt, hoping he could come up with some excuse to get the man to see him.

Kyle woke the following morning with the worst headache on record. He could not so much as climb out of bed. Steve left early to attend personal and political business, but promised to check in later. Kyle shuddered and rolled over, drawing his blankets tightly about him. Voodoo hadn't returned yet and his quarters stood terribly silent except the stereo which played at a low volume all hours of the day and night.

_Kyle, I'm coming back._ Steve warned.

_I'm still in bed._ Kyle grumped a little.

_It's important._ Steve insisted gently. _We have to talk. _

_Sounds bad. _

No response and Kyle moaned. It was bad. And he guessed what it was about: the little 'treatment' he gave Nick and Matt. Nick was easy: he was at the hospital. Matt . . . well, Kyle was lucky in that department. Matt was at the mall that afternoon. Unfortunately, Matt's estranged wife was there, too. They exchanged pleasantries with Kyle outside a gift shop. Then Kyle swiftly administered the same shot to Matt he gave Nick that morning.

He caught Frasier as the well-built man fell then Kyle gazed expectantly at Tracy. "Well?" He asked

"What?" Tracy stared as if nothing happened.

"Aren't you going to call the paramedics or the police?"

Her bright red and shiny lips parted slightly. "Is he dead?"

"No."

Her pretty face scrunched into an ugly sneer and Kyle suddenly did not think her so pretty after all. "Too bad." and she stepped over Matt's fallen form and exited the mall, leaving Kyle to call the paramedics.

Kyle forced himself up from his pillow and the room spun one way, tilted another. He feably lay back down. He knew, he just knew Dagger was going to blow a whistle on him.

"Doctor Scott?" Oma's voice filtered in from the front room. "Doctor Scott? I'm sorry to wake you. But Captain Parker is here. He says it's urgent."

Kyle moaned in pain and forced himself up. He pulled over some clothes and shuddered from cold. He staggered to the table as Steve silently greeted Oma with a small smile and turned directly to Kyle. "The Council has called a meeting, Kyle. They want to know what's going on."

Kyle stared into Steve's blue eyes. "You mean Matt and Nick." He assumed.

"Yeah, that too."

"Too?" Kyle's head throbbed and he was grateful Oma made him a cup of tea.

"They want to know about the hundred and twenty-four people that have died in the last six hours."

Kyle stared, wide eyed and pale. His heart turned sick and suddenly he needed something more than good tea. Steve remained standing, arms crossed, his face and eyes struggled to maintain a facade of stern calmness.

Kyle propped his head on his hand on the table, covering his eyes with his fingers. He did not see the blood beginning to seep from the back of his hand. Steve approached, drew a chair leaned forward and folded his arms across the table top.

"Kyle." He whispered. "Kyle, what were you thinking?"

Kyle mutely shook his head as Oma set a cup of tea in front of him. He heard her quietly ask Steve if he wanted any and Steve almost said no, but changed his mind. Kyle sat up with a forced breath. _You know why._ he answered quietly. _ It was necessary. You know it had to be done. I've already made necessary arrangements for them to be wakened after . . . after._ He couldn't bring himself to say 'our deaths.'

"Thank you." Steve glanced at Oma and took a sip of hot tea. _They're going to want to know everything, Kyle. Everything._

Kyle drew another deep breath and reached for his cup. "Time is too short to placate to the ignorant, Steve. I have a recording Voodoo promised to send to them afterward. Right now, I just want to rest." Kyle somberly traced his finger over the edge of the tea cup. He took another sip. His shoulder started to ache, but he forcibly shoved it to the back of his mind. He didn't want to face the possibility he and Kyle might be attacked. Not now. Steve set his cup down and studied Kyle.

"No, Steve." Kyle whispered in answer to Steve's concerned expression. "I haven't been well. Not since last night. I awoke exhausted."

Steve glanced away then turned right back and sipped his tea. He waited for Kyle to say something more, but Scott did not have anything else to say in his defense. Parker laid a hand on Kyle's and the two exchanged weary glances. Honestly, neither of them had to say a word, verbally, or otherwise. They had to do what needed to be done, whether or not it was pleasant.

"Well," Doctor Scott sighed, "let me contact Voodoo. He'll want to take us there."

Kyle and Steve stepped out to his patio. Kyle more or less dragged his feet, not willing to face a congregation of robots who may or may not understand his position. What he did to Matt and Nick was necessary. Should Ptysar and Xesnex decide they no longer wanted Kyle and Steve, Doctor Scott believed the poltergeists would turn to Nick and Matt

A coldness settled over Kyle's heart the moment he crossed the threshold to his patio. He thought he was going into a cardiac arrest. He tried to breathe, but could not. His sight faded and darkness took him.

Steve froze half way across the patio. Parker's stomach lurched, as though he could vomit all his insides out but nothing came. Biting cold twisted his spine into impossible angles-or so he thought. Razors clawed his heart, threatening to rip it right out of his chest and Steve could not breathe.

Something wormed inside him. It tried to push out of his skin, but could not quite do so. His eyes blackened over and something in his head laughed.

**RIGHT TO THE EDGE! RIGHT TO THE EDGE OF DEATH AND BACK AND OVER AND BACK AGAIN! I COULD PLAY LIKE THIS FOR DECADES! **

It pulled his head back by his hair and Steve could not so much as whimper in pain. It greedily licked his neck and then his chest and he fought and It laughed.

**I LIKE THIS. KEEP IT UP, CAPTAIN. A CHALLENGE IS ALWAYS WELCOME **

_Xesnex._ Parker spat.

Voodoo hovered next to the patio wall. Kyle climbed in first, then Steve. But neither Tentchi greeted the Sentinel. Voodoo really didn't think much of it until he took off. Generally, business made both he and Kyle grouchy. However, Kyle would usually say something, or Steve would greet the Sentinel with the usual 'hi,-how-are-you' ritual. Voodoo veered from the building and shot across town. The silent men still said nothing and Voodoo's already-irritable mood intensified. He landed minutes later at the council chamber and allowed Kyle and Steve out first, then transformed. "You're welcome!" He snarled, at their poor manners. But as the two approached the glassy chrome chamber doors, Voodoo spotted their reflections.

And where Steve's form should have been, walked a huge misshapen beast, more demonic than animal. Its teeth were enormous. Saliva dripped from its jaws and massive claws stalked the ground. It turned-not Steve's actual form-but the reflection turned and smiled at Voodoo.

The Sentinel's fuel lines ran cold. He cast his gaze to Kyle, who acted as if nothing happened.

They entered the great hall. A huge metal circular table rounded the room like a great opened yawn. In the vacant center of the room rested a witness stand for those on trial. The rest of the seating remained arranged according to species and size. Voodoo did not know what to do. Were Kyle and Steve still alive at all, or did the . . . did they . . .

Voodoo didn't want to think about it; couldn't think about it. Kyle HAD to be alive somehow. He just HAD to be!

The council was already assembled when Voodoo brought Parker and Scott in. All optics and eyes shot to the entrance and watched as Voodoo followed the men in at a discrete distance. He watched their every move as they found a place on either side of Jill.

He sat nearby as Megatron proceeded with old business regarding the Nagk; stuff of which Voodoo was not involved. He continued to watch McKennan, fully aware that Rodimus Prime was watching him. Jill glanced from Kyle to Steve and back then glanced at Voodoo, her face bright with fear, her eyes wide with terror.

"Ms. McKennan," In spite of its soft tones, Optimus' voice made her jump slightly. "Is there something wrong?"

"Wrong?" Jill stammered.

Optimus set his elbows on the table top and laced his fingers, gazing at them over his clasped hands. "Perhaps we should move on to another problem at hand. Doctor Scott, we thank you for being here today. We know this may be inconvenient for you, but we need to ask some questions."

Steve stood instead.

A chilling sensation struck Rodimus and he bolted to his feet. The face of evil stared straight into his soul and smiled. Rodimus' first thought was to flee.

Kyle stood next and Jill jumped, kicked her chair out of the way and dashed down the stairs away from the table.

"VOODOO!" she screamed.

A stream of water and blood phased between Kyle and Steve and shot out at Rodimus, struck him square in the chest. He staggered back at first, then dragged against the table, pulled toward the tiny creatures now possessed by an ancient evil. Megatron aimed his cannon at them, but instantly withdrew, realizing what it would have cost.

Rodimus opened his mouth, but no sound came. His optics shone brightly as Voodoo leapt over the table into the center and aimed his modified weapon at Steve. Attached to the edge of his gun sat the weapon Kyle made just a few precious days before. Voodoo swore no one would pull the trigger but him. Nobody but him. He didn't want to look, but had to. He fired, aiming first at Steve.

The glass bullet bounced harmlessly off Parker's forehead.

Kyle looked right at Voodoo, his usual dark brown eyes turned glassy white.

Kyle was the key.

Voodoo fought to control his reaction. He didn't want to do it; he didn't want to hurt his love. But then the Sentinel remembered he vowed he'd join Kyle in death. They'd never be parted again. With that thought, he trained the weapon on Kyle, as Rodimus finally cried out in agony, and fired.

Kyle fell back, his eyes still open.

Voodoo shot Steve when Parker turned to him again.

The streams of blood and water bridging Rodimus and Kyle and Steve ceased to flow and reversed coarse. Voodoo swore he saw faces in those streams, the distorted faces of two young boys, screaming in pure terror. The streams cascaded back to their source and Rodimus collapsed.

Jill cried out and raced back up the steps. Voodoo could not watch or listen around him. Council members either asked stupid questions, gathered around Rodimus, called medics or ran toward the fallen Humans. Voodoo didn't care. He and Kyle were dead. Steve and Midnight were dead. Voodoo carefully unmodified his weapon with ease and set it to kill. He was going to be join with Kyle again! He and Kyle were going to be-

"Ohmigod!" Jill cried, "They're alive! V! They're still alive! We have to get them back to Medbay!"

------------------------------------

" . . . who will help me to gather the corn so that I may make cakes?' asked the little red hen. 'Not I,' said the fox. 'Not I,' said the little dog. 'Not I,' said the pig. 'And not I,' said the cat. 'Well,' said the little red hen, 'I and my chicks will have to do it ourselves. And so they did. They gathered the corn and dried it out and grounded it and later the little red hen made wonderful sweet corn cake and then she asked 'Who will help me eat the cake?' 'I will!' said the fox. 'I will,' claimed the little dog. 'Me too,' said the cat. 'Don't forget me!' declared the pig. 'No.' said the little red hen. 'You did not help me dig the ground or plant the corn. You did not help me water the corn, or keep out the weeds. You did not help me gather the corn, or dry it. You did not help me bake it. My chicks helped me and they and I shall eat the cake-"

Kayla glanced from the book and found Kyle's dark brown eyes open and clear and shining with a smile. She set the book down and tried to think of a million things to say, all of them so pointless at this moment. She leaned over and took his hand-his warm strong hand-in hers and all she could do was stare.

Nurse Ady came shuffling in, a digipad in hand, yammering on with another nurse as she passed along. Ady stopped cold. "What's this?" She nearly sang. "Doctor Scott's come back to us, has he? Lord bless us all! Let me get Doctor Hashu!"

Kyle slowly blinked. "Little Red Hen, Kayla?" He asked quietly.

She smiled broadly. "It's a great story. I read Little Red Riding Hood earlier, but . . . you didn't seem to like it quite so much. I think it was when the wolf ate her. It seemed to upset you."

Kyle smoothed the back of her hand with his thumb. Her hands were warm, soft and gentle. She was real. And the dreams . . . the dreams were all gone.

"Well! This is unprecedented, Doctor Scott." Hashu declared as he walked in. "Seems you'll have to make a note of it: five people go comatose and all five come out of it."

Kyle found it hurt to wrinkle his brows. "Five?"

Hashu exaggerated his nod. "We received the antidote for the simulated coma you put Matt and Nick in. Steve came out of his four hours ago, then went right back to sleep. Midnight is recovering. And I have a present for you."

Hashu disappeared for the moment and Kyle turned to Kayla. "Voodoo? Voodoo?"

She sighed and looked sad. "He's been so lost, Kyle. We've already started him on counseling and therapy. But while he will be very happy to know you're alright, he's already showing symptoms." Kayla swallowed a lump in her throat and looked away as her eyes glassed up with tears.

Kyle understood what she was saying, but his foggy mind couldn't fathom it just yet. He started thinking it over when Hashu returned and handed Kyle a small gift-wrapped box. Kyle slowly slipped his hand from Kayla and frowned at the bandage still covering his right hand. He undid the wrapping and found the bullet. The glass was clear save for a small bubble in the center. A blood-red liquid swished with his movement and Kyle nearly freaked. His eyes zipped from Hashu to Kayla.

". . . Ptysar?" He dared. "Ptysar?"

Kayla nodded. As bizarre as it sounds, that's him. Your theory was right."

"There's only one." Kyle shook the bullet and inwardly laughed, knowing he was shaking up the life force that could never escape its tiny prison.

"The other one rightfully belongs to Steve." Hashu bounced on his heels.

Kyle smiled but found his forehead hurt when he did so. He lifted the bullet to the light and stared at the blood that sloshed inside on its own. "One good torment deserves another." He muttered quietly. He lowered it, finding the pretty Kshi lady a far better sight than the new toy. "I know I still owe you a breakfast." He offered as Hashu was called away to deliver a baby.

Kayla smiled and stared at the coverlets and straightened them out just a little. "Breakfast sounds good. But I want you to wait until you're strong enough to go out." She looked back up with her eyes only.

Kyle stared at her and found himself lost in their sparkle. He wondered how he could have known her for six thousand years and not once fallen in love. Maybe he had and never realized it.

But there was another matter to take care of.

"When can I see Voodoo?"

Kayla sat up and uncustomarily shrugged. "When he feels he can handle it."

Kyle nodded in acceptance. Voodoo was starting to loose his mind and Kyle only wanted to treat him with as much love and patience as he could possibly give.

But just two days later, Kayla came in with good news. She brought Kyle some fresh clothes and a menu from a restaurant. "They said you seemed to be okay and you can go home. And Voodoo is on his way to take you there."

Kyle looked up and it was then that Kayla realized Steve was there, too. She blushed, realizing she had interrupted a private conversation.

But Kyle graciously encouraged her to step into the room and Steve offered her his seat. She took it, all in silence.

"I'm glad you came by." Steve greeted.

The smile fell from her face. "Kayla," he drew a breath and touched the bandage wrapping his wounded forehead. "We have something to tell you that needs to be kept confidential." And Steve closed the door.

Kayla glanced from one man to the other, speechless.

Kyle gave her a grim smile. "Steve and I developed some form of telepathy during our possession. The telepathy turned into an empathic link. I thought that with the exorcism, the link would fade. But as it turns out, the link was strengthened. I don't know how it happened, I don't know if it's reversible, or if it can be broken. I doubt it. But for the last few days, Steve and I have begun to build a vocabulary based on moods and emotions. As odd as that sounds."

She again glanced from one gentleman to the other. "Gods." She breathed. "Wh-why are you telling me this?"

"Someone has to know." Steve broke in. "We needed to tell someone in case something should happen to one or the other of us. Midnight knows. Voodoo does not. Not yet."

Kayla stared at them a long moment, having no idea how to respond. Then she remembered. "Oh, he's coming-and you're not dressed yet!" She handed Kyle his clothes and he slowly disembarked from the bed. With another smile, he slipped into the restroom to change.

Steve stared at her with weary blue eyes. "Kayla, I know it will be hard for you to deal with all this, adjusting-"

"Steve," she smiled. "You're still alive. We still have Kyle. Isn't that enough for right now? Isn't that just enough? I know you have a new link. That's good. But right now, I just want to rest and have breakfast and take care of someone I love."

Truer words could not have been spoken. She voiced the very thing Steve had been thinking: he had no idea what he was going to do with Ashtar. In time, he believed they could get through it. But the tragic thing of it was, (and it was a thought he really had been avoiding all this time) was the broken link between Kyle and Voodoo. No doubt, Voodoo's Interface systems were scarred. Kyle most likely had already begun to age and Steve did not want to think that in thirty years or so, Kyle would be gone.

He just couldn't face that reality right now.

Kyle stepped out of the restroom in a dark blue sweater and dark blue jeans. Kayla had graciously remembered to bring his coat, which hung over his left arm.

Steve's smile dimmed a little. Kyle had lost weight and he didn't look quite right, not quite the same. But then, Steve had also lost a lot of weight and he didn't look quite so well, either. Time, Parker thought dismally, time heals all wounds.

They stepped out the hallway, greeting a brighter light than in Kyle's room.

And Kyle spotted Voodoo emerging from the elevator from the other end of the hall.

Silence before the song.

Like the stillness before the storm.

A breath is stolen, maybe two.

Eye contact.

The match is lit.

Gasoline is poured

and an explosion of experiences cascade through, rising and pushing.

The breath is stolen.

The voice fades, unable to express the million lifetimes of experiences compacted into a split second.

Faces

death

wars

peace

fear

flight

dead silence

Braintrust

Thon Roque

Death

Midnight

Anger

war

survival

guilt

fear

sorrow

death

flight

and

_Kyle. _

The pain struck just once, slamming him atop his head and shot straight down his spine. His heart stopped. Kyle's eyes never closed, but he saw nothing, either. He didn't hear Kayla call for him. He wasn't aware of the call for help.

Dead silence.

Then:

_Kyle. _

His eyes filled with tears.

A presence filled all his soul. It embraced him first kindly then passionately.

_Kyle. _

It was as if a door had slammed shut, or more appropriately, like a rubber band snapping together when stretched too tightly. The face and the mental sound struck Voodoo against the transparent titanium windows. He slid to the floor, paralyzed with shock.

Someone contacted Skywolf.

Someone shouted "V! V!"

But it was Kyle . . .Kyle's precious presence that kept Voodoo from going out completely. He could feel Kyle struggling to breathe. He could hear Kyle's heart beat. He could sense the terrible shock. _Kyle,_ he mentally whispered. Voodoo loved Kyle's name. He loved Kyle's soul. And it dawned on the Sentinel just how precious, how . . . awesome . . .

The world for him brightened suddenly. He could hear everything around him, sense all things to such a degree as he had forgotten. The power of Interface was such that a Sentinel was no longer just another creature, but something the ancient gods feared. He was not one person, but two. And with all this might at his call, with all the energies and powers at his disposal, he returned his attention back to Kyle.

Someone touched him. He was a million miles away.

Someone called his name. Voodoo heard them but couldn't really answer.

_Kyle._ He called again.

But Kyle lay in shock, unable to answer.

Voodoo wrapped his mind about his Tentchi. _Kyle . . ._ he whispered softly. Voodoo became vaguely aware of a commotion down the hall. His optics flashed off, on, and he gazed left, ignoring Skywolf's voice. People milled around Kyle, Kayla's voice called over and over.

No response.

_Kyle._ Voodoo called again. _Breathe. Kyle . . ._

One breath.

Despair.

Traumatic shock.

_Kyle._ Voodoo enclosed himself about his Interface. No response. Voodoo substituted and breathed.

One breath.

Forced through.

Two breaths.

Kyle came to but remained right where he lay. He felt himself the dead center of a terrible storm. He didn't see anything, couldn't hear anything around him. But a set of huge hands cupped around his weak form and brought him close to warm, smooth metal. Kyle's fingers glided along the metal. It became familiar to him.

Kayla and Skywolf harped on Voodoo to get Kyle back to his room so they could examine him. But all Voodoo wanted was to hold him.

"Bring him in so we can check on him." Gatchel barked.

"NO!" Voodoo whined. "I just want to hold-he's okay."

Kayla firmly signaled him to lower Kyle and Voodoo reluctantly obeyed like a child told to share his toy. But he kept Kyle in his hands, unwilling to do anything more.

Kayla ran a scanner over Kyle twice. She read the results then smiled, pleased. Kayla snapped the scanner shut. "The shock is slowly wearing off. Take him home, Voodoo. He's going to be sick for a couple of days. No phasing until he's better. Okay?"

It took Kyle several days just to recover from the sudden attack. Voodoo laughed at him nearly all the time because it didn't occur to Kyle until the third day that he and Voodoo re-Interfaced.

"This is a new one." Kyle mused, adding to his journals. "A Tentchi-Dokiah are separated by supernatural means. Then they are snapped back together, the link stronger than before." He paced about his little garden, hand in pockets. "There should have been scarring on Voodoo's Interface systems. But there is none. The two of us tested at ninety percent the other day, a thirty percent increase over our original Interface. I'm, I'm still trying to sort it all out. I think back to what Prophetess Alandra once said to me and Steve: 'You are the new species in the universe.' She said 'you may soon find others who will become Tentchi-Dokiah. Every new species must be given permission to exist.' I am astounded by the thought that there are or will be many others like us. But I think Alandra meant something else, something entirely different. Another species, perhaps." Kyle sat on the edge of his patio and stared out toward the vast and crowded cityscape. He thought about Voodoo's offer several weeks ago regarding a trip to Alean.

Kyle grinned when a familiar presence let Himself into his quarters-Steve still had the access codes and Kyle didn't see the need to change them. He warmly greeted his friend through their empathic link and received an emotional embrace. Steve stepped out to the patio.

"Place needs some sunlight, Kyle." He suggested.

"I think WE need sunlight, Steve." Kyle waited until Parker joined him on the metal wall. "How did it go?"

"Ashtar is still upset. I told her it was going to take a lot of time for me. I don't think she understands."

"No." Kyle agreed. "It's something you have to experience, I suppose."

Steve studied Kyle a moment. His friend looked far better than he had in weeks . . . the last three months, actually. "How's Voodoo?" He asked quietly.

"Doing vertical loops in forbidden zones. I tell him he's going to get caught and Midnight will give him something unpleasant to do as punishment."

Steve stared a little more intently, daring to ask the next personal question. "Have you phased yet?"

Kyle shook his head. "No. I'm still a bit shaky and Voodoo doesn't want to push me into anything." Scott bowed his head with a broad smile. "He spoils me, Steve." The forty-something gentleman's eyes sparkled in a way Steve had not seen in decades. "Voodoo makes me coffee and talks . . .just talks. He says he wants to take me to Vega Three where they hold races and sports year-round. He says the football there-"

"Oh yeah!" Steve grinned equally broadly. "Vegan football. There's nothing that compares to it."

"Come with us." Kyle invited.

"I might." Steve replied easily. "But I want to see you back to your old self first . . ." His voice drifted and he thought about the 'old Kyle' and bit his words. He stared deeply into Kyle's dark brown eyes. "Kyle, come play pool with me tonight."

Kyle looked puzzled and found he had to keep reminding himself not to scrunch up his brows so much; the wound was still there. "Pool?"

"Hmmhmm. It's uhm, a table with a whole bunch of round colorful little balls and you hit them with the tip of a stick."

Kyle stared at Steve in mild disbelief. It sounded ridiculous. "Well, uhm, um . . ."

"Kyle, I don't want to force you into anything you're not ready for. It's just that in the past, you were always too busy."

Kyle heard that accusation before. He couldn't believe he'd be too busy to goof off.

Steve went on: "Long before we came to Cybertron, it was just you and me, Kayla, Shan, Jill, Mike and Ray. We used to do all kinds of crazy things together. We were very close. Then, of course, Midnight met Rodimus Prime and things haven't been the same since. You're my very closest friend. We've always had good rapport and I want to spend more time with you."

At first Kyle wasn't so sure. He was being dragged out of his comfort zone. But he knew Steve would do nothing to deliberately embarrass him. He smiled again. "Okay."

Steve stood, triumph beamed in his face. "Well, I need to get back. Mid wants a report made for the Counsel. At least you and I did not have to set another appointment for another meeting-that's one thing I like about Optimus Prime: he won't waste his time on things he's already aware of."

"Names." Kyle shook his head.

And Steve was sorry. It would take Kyle years, if not a life time to reacquaint himself with his life. "Oh!" Steve brightened. "Before I forget again-" he brought out a small wrapped box and gave it to Kyle. "I know Hashu said I get this one. But really, for all you've been through, Kyle, I think you deserve it more than me."

Kyle's face went blank and he opened the little box, finding the other bullet containing Xesnex. "Really now, Steve. If you were going to propose to me, you should have used something a little more romantic."

Steve pointed a finger at him and opened his mouth to say something, but Parker caught his words when he realized he didn't know what to say at all.

Kyle grinned and made his way back inside his quarters. "Don't worry, I won't tell Ashtar."

"You're really asking for it, Scott." Steve finally said.

Kyle placed the bullet between Ptysar and an ancient hourglass on the bookshelf of his desk and thought of Kayla.

End

T.L. Arens


End file.
